


I know you by the state of your hands

by thepatchmatrix



Series: Calluses [1]
Category: One Piece
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Blood and Injury, Friendship, Gen, Giving the Heart Crew Backstories, Hinted Romance that can mostly be ignored, Hurt/Comfort, Major Character Death Takes Place at Beginning of the Story, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Panic Attacks, Remember that Graphic Depictions of Violence Tag?, Slow Burn, Time Travel Fix-It, What Are Coherent Timelines?, Which I Planned From The Beginning And Totally Forgot About!, Worldbuilding, implied/referenced eating disorder, mild body dysphoria, non-linear storytelling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-06
Updated: 2020-08-26
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:21:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 16
Words: 44,316
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25102321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepatchmatrix/pseuds/thepatchmatrix
Summary: Their world ends. It's not in some cataclysmic event or the government getting the better of them, but at the hands of some crazy, lucky Marines on an island they never planned to stop on.Their world ends. Each of them falls, one after the other, to the unrelenting hoard before them.Their world ends in a series of gunshots and slashes and explosions.And their world begins again thanks to their weird, crazy luck.~*~A Time Travel Fix-it that begins a year before canon and spirals into the greatest shit-show the world will ever see.Look out, here they come.
Relationships: Bepo & Penguin & Shachi, Bepo & Trafalgar D. Water Law, Heart Pirates & Trafalgar D. Water Law, Minor Monkey D. Luffy/Trafalgar D. Water Law - Relationship, Monkey D. Luffy & Mugiwara Kaizoku | Strawhat Pirates, Monkey D. Luffy & Trafalgar D. Water Law
Series: Calluses [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1818064
Comments: 406
Kudos: 907
Collections: One Piece bests, Pyro's Faves, Time Travel and World Travel





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Slow burn all the way.
> 
> Like seriously, if you want any action anytime soon, this is not the story for you.
> 
> What started out as a, at most, 20k+ story has spawned into a 3-part series with who knows how many asides. Really it just depends on what I find myself writing to procrastinate on the rest of this series and the million other WIPs I have sitting in a folder on my desktop.
> 
> I started this idea before I got to Wano in the manga and, despite all the recent developments, I wanted to stay with what I had already written. I tried to keep everything pretty vague, but I'm sure some of this won't fit by the end of the arc. Sorry not sorry.
> 
> Anyways, thanks for popping in and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Edit: Forgot to mention it, but the title comes from "The Devil Wears a Suit and Tie" by Colter Wall

He comes to between one step and the next. The clank of his last footstep jars a mind that does not know it’s moving. Around him, bright spots of light glow and pulse, auras of excitement and happiness and naive anticipation. His legs crumple beneath him and his knees slam into the ground.

He catches himself on trembling arms as he tilts forward. Dark, too-sharp tattoos stand out on the backs of his hands, the red irritation of new ink still covering his skin. This is not where he was.

His crew was dead, blown to bits before they knew what hit them. And then the Strawhats and Penguin and Shachi, falling as they ran, fighting to the bitter end for their captains. And Bepo and Franky, standing as the last shield between them and the encroaching marines, using their bodies to shield them from the gun fire as they were pushed further and further into the rocky crevice, unable to summon even a small room and Luffy barely moving as he struggled to protect the last of his crew. And Luffy’s eyes managing to widen just a bit beyond the half-lid they’d been stuck at when a lucky bullet passed through the shipwright. And Luffy’s soft, almost silent gasp as it hit his chest. And Luffy’s blood-splattered cough as the bullet lodged in his heart.

And his desperation as he pushed what was left of his lifeforce into the biggest Room he could imagine so he could shred _every. last. Marine._

He curls forward, tucking his arms around his chest as his forehead hits the metal grating. He gasps, back heaving as he fights for air past the panic filling his throat. Tears of relief and joy and terror mix into a silently sobbing Trafalgar D. Water Law.

Footsteps approach, swiftly growing from a casual walk into a frantic run as they sound from behind him, but he can’t look up. He knows he’s having a panic attack. He knows this will worry his crew. He _knows_ that this makes him look weak in front of the people he cares for more than the world.

But he doesn’t know if this is real.

A hand touches his back and his gasps escalate, moving from barely hiccupping breaths to full-blown hyperventilation. He curls tighter, hands grasping harder into his shirt, the brim of his hat catching along the floor. The bright auras turn frantic, shouts and heavy footsteps barely making a sound past the roaring in his ears. The floor is rolling beneath him, sweeping back and forth on the waves as his head grows lighter and lighter.

And then the roaring fades, taking the voices along with it. He begins to float, the gentle sway rocking him out of consciousness.

~*~

Happiness is Penguin’s middle name. Or, at least, it feels like it.

The crew had been growing recently and, as Shachi had pointed out, they would soon be ready for the Grandline. Everyone is training their hardest to keep up with Bepo and their Captain, and Penguin has made significant progress in the last few days. He’d lasted over ten minutes against Bepo in their last spar and Law had smiled at how even his stitches were when he patched up Uni last week. And he isn’t the only one.

Ikkaku had performed her first appendectomy during their last island visit with Law only observing and offering minimal commentary. Clione is making the Polar Tang’s engine run smoother with every passing day. Everyone is getting better in leaps and bounds. They’ll surely be the best pirate crew in the Grandline!

He hums jauntily as he walks through the halls, making his way to the mess. His footsteps beat a happy rhythm to match his joyful mood. His head sways back and forth and his shoulders rise and dip as he dances his way through the ship.

Penguin turns the next corner and comes to a dead stop.

His Captain is curled into a ball in the middle of the hallway, body trembling with near silent gasps.

A millisecond pause and he’s running, already shouting for help as he slides to his knees. A light touch has Law shaking harder, curling impossibly further into himself and gasping for air until he passes out.

He’s pulling Law onto his side, body limp and pliable in a way he’s never seen his Captain, is _absolutely batshit terrified of_ , when Bepo and Uni come thundering down the hall.

They’re frantic, Penguin’s explanations panicked and shaking as they check their Captain for wounds, heart rate, _breathing_ , and then they’re off again, taking Law to the infirmary. Everyone’s running in, needing to see Law for themselves, needing to know what’s happened.

Bepo is quick to take over, placing sensors and checking blood pressure as Ikkaku inserts an IV with the basic bagged fluids in anticipation of potential problems. The rest of the crew is silent, harsh breathing barely breaking the silence as they watch from the doorway.

Panic is creeping under Penguin’s skin. He’s shaking and afraid and lost because everything was going well, they were finally _ready._

His hands are shaking where he has them clenched around his Captain’s forgotten hat.

~*~

He’s sitting beside his captain, brow furrowed as he flips through his chart when he _changes_. It’s subtle, and Ikkaku, sitting on the other side of their Captain’s bed, and the crew sitting or standing around the room, posts abandoned in favor of watching their leader for any minute change, miss it completely. Bepo blinks and his eyes fall out of focus as the rest of his life shifts into place and the bullets that killed him burn into scars across his back. He grips the papers in his hand tight enough to crumple them. Everything from the last hours, both then and now, comes easily and he wants to sigh.

Law’s vitals and bloodwork show the extreme strain and deficiencies that come with continued overuse of his power. It’s something he’s seen dozens of times, and yet never before if he’s actually back in time and not truly dead.

(And he wants to whimper and cry and curl up with his Captain and the rest of the crew because he had lost them all to that damn island. Wants to clutch at his back and the burning wounds that had killed him wants to scream and cry and shout at the sky because he had been _right._

Law had never questioned the time aspect of his devil fruit, the powers of his Room coming to him with an almost supernatural ease after the first time he’d activated it. Law was so sure he’d discovered every aspect by the time they set out.

Bepo had seen the horror is his Captain’s eyes when the memories of Cora-san and his childhood were strong and knew that his best friend wouldn’t be able to handle the idea that he could manipulate space _and_ time _._ Knew that the shaking, underfed teen he’d held through sobbing nightmares would kill himself trying to bring back the ghosts that haunted him if he’d had an inkling that it waspossible. So, despite the clear signs, the way Law could separate a still beating heart from a living person or pull the energy from previous hits to rebound them on the perpetrator without stockpiling the energy or even the fucking _immortal surgery_ , Bepo kept his silence and let Law live believing he knew everything about his devil fruit.)

“Oh Captain,” slips from his lips in a sigh before he can stop himself. His hair stands on end and his back tenses as he remembers everyone else in the room, their bright presences so soothing and familiar, yet achingly incomplete.

“Bepo, is he…?” and Shachi’s voice is so terribly quiet, the barest shake petering out into silence.

He’s not sure how to explain this to them, or even if he should. That should be Law’s decision considering it was _his_ powers that put them in this position. And considering no one else was reacting the way they would if they knew what this was, none of them had come back as well.

(Would they come back? Was it just him and Law? Could either of them handle it if they _were_?)

He heaves another, heavier sigh and stands, grabbing another bag of fluids and replacing the depleted one, “He’ll be fine, he just needs rest. “

Ikkaku’s head shoots up and the crew starts making confused noises. Internally, he winces at the abrupt change, but he’s got too many things to confirm before Law wakes to spend any more time babying his idiot captain.

“What—” Uni steps forward, arm reaching for Bepo as the mink starts toward the door when a fast-moving, bright spot pings at the edge of Bepo’s range and it feels _malicious._

He’s running for the bridge seconds before the proximity alarms blare.

He misses the sudden intake of breath and jolting flinch from the man on the bed.

~*~

Luffy is more than ready to _burn the government to the ground._

He’s had enough, and even Koby and Gramps won’t be enough to stop him from slaughtering the entire organization, from the lowest Marine to the Gorusei themselves. He’ll dance on their corpses and use the fat from the Tenryubito to burn whatever remains of Mary Geoise when he was done with it.

He ignores the burning itch spreading across his chest as he pushes through the ( _familiar, why is it so familiar?_ ) undergrowth on the too warm island. He’s in old clothes, too light and thin to grant him any protection from the snow he’d just been covered in, the soaking, cold wet that sunk into your bones and never really let go.

There was no hard rock at his back or warm metal and soft fur at his front or the comforting heartbeat of someone more than a friend at his side and he’s on the verge of losing it.

(Sabaody and Kuma and Marineford are all rattling around in his head and he wants to break down and pound at the earth, make it hurt just as much as he did for all the loss and pain his family had to go through because the old and rich wanted to feel above the rest of the world. But he can’t loose them. _Not again._ )

It’s brighter when the foliage breaks, a small plain of grass leading to a short drop-off and Luffy skids to a stop, staring at the bright, calm ocean. The breeze is warm, and the ground is soft. A series of windmills turn in the distance, leading to a small fishing village. A few tiny fishing boats sit past the break. Birds call and fish splash.

The East Blue is calm and warm and peaceful and a world away from where he’s supposed to be.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, look! A little more information and more confusion! And maybe a little heartbreak.....
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

It’s days later and Luffy’s chest _itches_. The skin is scrapped raw from his fingernails and a slow, sinking sensation is clawing its way in. It feels like dying in reverse, like his chest has been torn open all over again but with a fist of freezing ice and terrible sorrow instead of the killing magma of his past. It’s only when the edges of an all too familiar scar start to form under his collar bones does he know that his past has come back with him.

(Eyes raw from constant tears and knuckles scrapped from constant fighting, he feels like the child who hadn’t yet met the two boys who would become everything to him. The one who didn’t have a Strawhat tapping against his back or shoved over his fringe as he ran around Foosha Village. The one who was so lonely that being alive physically _hurt_.)

The tearing, digging, hateful thoughts of the last week slowly lift, the pain so similar to losing his crew to Kuma’s powers so long ago at Saobody pulling away as the scar becomes more defined.

(And Luffy has never doubted that his past was real, that he found his crew and met so many cool people and fought the best battles and had the adventures he’d dreamed about with his brothers but this? This is his proof. He has lived a life outside of the safety of Foosha, away from the disapproving eyes of Goa and the gruff concern of his bandits. Away from Makino and her sad smiles and guilty looks. Luffy knows now, that he can make it to the end as long as he finds his crew and makes good on their promise to _destroy_ the system.)

With the scar comes the realization that Ace is living and breathing his best life as a pirate somewhere on the Grandline with more family than he can count; that Sabo is working with his father to free the world, entirely unaware of the brothers he left behind.

Luffy doesn’t even wait for the scar to fully set before he sails out.

He leaves midday to a crowd of one. Pochi’s tail wags and his ears flick as he watches as the boy-who-gives-the-best-belly-rubs sails away on a tiny dingy with enough provisions to last a grown man a week and Luffy, two days. A short bark of farewell and a few fast tail wags and Pochi turns back and trots off into the forest. Eight days later, the rest of the bandits finally realize what Pochi has known all along.

The young, carefree Luffy is gone.

(And it’s months, _years_ , later, after Makino is told and Garp shows up and no bounties pop up in the newspaper, that they truly see just what happened to their optimistic, dreaming boy. Gone is the kid who ran around the forest in the wake of a man who will rule the world.)

~*~

Franky is super confused for the first 6 hours, 18 minutes and, 32.5 seconds after he wakes from what he’s pretty sure was his death. Then, he remembers that his Captain and crew attract the worst kinds of trouble and decides to live his reality as best he can until they pull him out of this fresh hell or he finds them and they use their maybe-future knowledge to destroy the status quo. Either way, he has things to do.

It’s not easy talking to Iceberg about his past (future, whatever), not with everything standing between them. But he understands now, sees where the man is coming from despite not truly understanding him.

(And that’s what makes him a Strawhat, in the end. Yes, he’s willing to give up everything for the ones he loves, but he can’t love an entire city like Iceburg. He doesn’t have a heart big enough, but he can focus on the one’s close to him, focus on protecting those he can. The idea of having the life of a city and a business in his hands and on his back terrifies him because there is no way he won’t disappoint someone. So, he lets himself love his crew and doesn’t focus on much else. He will not lose his crew again. They will live and destroy the government and _free the world_.)

(He looks at Pluton’s plans again, focusing on the small differences and tiny aspects he just hadn’t remembered. Things he’d never thought to include. Things the Thousand Sunny would have this time. He burns the plans again.)

They’re sitting along Dock 4, watching the sunset as Franky talks and talks and _talks._

He tells of the woman, the one their master warned them of and her love for life, her need to unlock the mysteries of the past so they may live in a better future.

He tells of the Fishman, tall and broad and oh so fierce, a stark reminder of Tom for all that they are so very different.

He tells of the living skeleton, voice bright and chipper, a man with a level of pervert Franky can only to aspire to on his good days.

He tells of the navigator, loud and confident, a woman who has seen what the world has to offer and takes what she wants with a tight grip, never letting go.

He tells of a swordsman, eyes focused and demonic, the man whose moral compass leads straight and righteous on even the darkest nights.

He tells of a cook, gaze full of wonder and love at the simplest things, a need to serve and be gentle to them is his greatest reward.

He tells of a doctor, small and terrifyingly smart, the reindeer full of amusing contradictions and a heart so young it’s a wonder to watch as he discovers the world aknew.

He tells of an inventor, a man known more for his prowess with a slingshot and lies, but with hands careful and exacting as he makes things for the ones he loves.

And he tells of a Captain. Tells of a boy made of rubber, of a man with a smile so wide it looks like the sun. Tells of the Straw Hat and the impractical sandals and the loudest personality he’s ever seen.

And then he tells of the end. His crewmates missing, dead before they even know what’s happening. An unending force chasing them. Blood spilling and the running and everyone _falling._

His voice is hoarse by the end of it, sun fully set and moon high in the sky. Iceberg is quiet, eyes locked on the ocean and hands clenched in his pants.

Franky wants to apologize, wants to explain more, wants to have never said anything at all.

He jumps when Iceberg grabs him in a hug. His shoulder grows rapidly wet and he’s stunned beyond words.

Iceberg is _crying_. The man who’d practically raised him alongside Tom and Kokoro, the man who gave him a new name, the man who had always stood taller than everyone around him despite his physical height, was wrapped around him and _sobbing_.

“I—Iceberg?”

Iceberg squeezes tighter, “Kid, _Franky_ , how the— What were you _thinking_?”

And Franky feels his shoulders pull tight and he’s about to _blow_ when—

“You _died_.”

Oh.

“I’m not dead right _now_.”

The man leans back and squeezes Franky’s shoulders in tight hands and shakes Franky like he wants to the strangle the cyborg, “But you did, will, could! Franky, the Marines slaughtered you! How are you so _calm about this?_ ”

Why _is_ he so calm? No matter the crazy he’d lived through with the Strawhats, nothing had been as scary as those last hours. And maybe that was it. Nothing could top the terror of running for your life into an impossible situation. He and the bear mink had been the last, besides their Captains. And they’d sacrificed themselves to give Luffy and Law as much time as possible to recover and fight and _live_. Now he was in the calm after the storm, before the storm, in the eye of the storm that would never truly end until they’d destroyed the world government and burned the Nobles and the Celestial Dragons and their precious city to _ash_. Now, he had time to build and create and upgrade everything they could need to obliterate the status quo. Now, he could make the Sunny even better. Now, he had time to save his crewmates. Time to save his Captain.

Franky stares at Iceberg for a moment before looking back to the sea, “I have time to make it right.”

Iceberg watches Franky for another minute before sighing and looking away, “Alright, tell me more about this ship.”

~*~

Why the hell were they in the Calm Belt? Has his crew lost all sense!?

Law braces against the hull as a sea king slams into them. Around him, his crew is frantic, everyone shouting and moving as they try to evade the monster. His vision swins with exhaustion and nausea, the head-pulsing ache of over-exertion weighing down his limbs. He really shouldn’t be standing but he can’t leave his crew ( _so naïve, so damn young_ ) to face this horror alone.

“Captain,” Bepo calls, a familiar mix of disapproval and exasperation. His first mate had perfected the tone after the stunt Law pulled to become a Warlord. Admittedly, showing up at a Marine base with a crate full of still-beating hearts after the disaster that was the Rocky Port Incident had been incredibly reckless, for all that he called it _calculated_. But seeing it now, when the lack of Yama and Jean is so very apparent must mean –

“Bepo,” Law sighs, half in relief, half in pained wonderment, “How the _fuck_ did we end up in the Calm Belt?”

And it’s a sentence that means so much more.

( _How are we in the past? How did we make it to this point? How are we still alive after watching the Marines slaughter the only home I had left? How did I find such amazing people? How will I fail them this time?_ )

Around him, the crew goes silent and still for a long second before bursting into panic.

Huh, they hadn’t known this was the Calm Belt. Bepo shoots Law a darker glare. Law just shrugs. Oh well, they’d have to learn sometime.

And the sub shakes again, the sea king coming back for another graze. Bepo turns back to the helm (shoulders straight and confident in a way Law knows but the rest of the crew finds unfamiliar and almost alien) and goes back to shouting orders. Law can see the bright aura shifting and dancing around them as he pushes off the wall and stumbles through the crew to the navigation panel. Leaning against Bepo’s shoulder, he scans the radar and sea maps, looking for anything familiar. They’re moving South, toward the center of the Calm Belt and directly North of where they encountered Zou in the future.

So, if they aren’t too off course, they were about a year out from entering the Grandline. And, if Law remembers correctly, about a week out from the crew’s first encounter with Doflamingo’s crime family.

(It burns that the man is in power again, all the progress of the future erased by what Law is sure was his actions. But, he knows what’s coming and maybe, _just maybe_ , they can liberate Dressrosa without destroying the island in the process.)

A hand on his arm and Law is whirling around to face Ikkaku, “Captain, you should be in bed.”

He glares. Ikkaku doesn’t even flinch.

(Law is so damn proud of his crew, especially knowing what amazing people they grow into.)

“We can handle a few se-sea kings, Captain. _You_ can barely stand. So, back to bed. Now,” And it’s almost hilarious that Ikkaku is trying to threaten him when she can barely say the name of the monster attacking them, but Law can concede that she’s doing extremely well. For this point in time anyway.

And they wouldn’t see that time if they couldn’t get away from the massive presence _coming right at them—_

Law reacts, sending out a Room as fast as possible, pushing into the sea water around them with all the strength he has left, hoping desperately to find something, anything, that can help. His vision fades in and out as he instinctively grabs at his closest crew members to keep them safe. But there’s nowhere to go, they’re too deep and the monster’s too fast and it’s swimming straight at them and—

And…

And....?

They’re jostled, the entire sub tipping to and fro as another monster grabs them in its mouth but doesn’t chew or swallow or _destroy_ them.

~*~

His vision blinkers, flicks and flops and dances in circles before he finds himself sitting at the galley table, violin in hand and a note on the edge of his non-existent tongue. Fog seeps through the cracks in the walls. Mawaritosuki’s skull sits on the opposite edge, knocked on its side by the current? The battle? Or had he set down his head when the poison was too much?

A laugh, deep and bone-rattling. His hair shakes around him, obscuring his sockets. He can’t find his fingers as he scrapes across his cheekbones again and again and again. The world is tilting and shifting around him in a haze that never ends and maybe he has finally lost it. Has lost it again? Where is he?

The skull across from him shatters in a million pieces as he slams carpals, radii, ulnas, humeri through the wood and into the deck.

He’d been out, at least in his mind. It had felt so real, the wind in his hair and the sun on his bones and the love in his heart. Everything had been _so much better_. But he was back here, stuck on this damn boat with the promise of a song in a tone dial for a baby whale who was better off without them. A whale who was probably dead. How long has it been? He’d thought 50 years, but then he thought he was out of this nightmare and living away from the terror of floating alone in a sea of fog.

A scrape of boots on the floor and he’s walking out of the galley, searching for the deck in a maze of hallways. How long had he been staring at Madaisuki. Or Mawaritosuki? They were twins, right? Which one had died to the poison and which to the sword in the back of the skull? Or had they died at all?

Was he even dead? Or alive? Where was his crew?

He calls out, looked for, is still looking around at his captain, his first mate, his greedy navigator and cute, little doctor.

Little? Doc wasn’t little, the man was taller than him and he’d been the tallest on the crew. Was never the tallest but was always the tallest? No, Doc was taller but _his_ doctor was small and cute and not Doc.

And his navigator, her heart of gold hidden behind a curtain of greed and fire. Fire, red hair and an affinity for the weather. A weather witch who screamed and cried and ran for their little doctor as he fell from the cliff into the cold, chilling, stealing sea. Who barely made a sound as he went over the edge, a bloody hole in his neck as he fell and fell and _fell_.

And he was standing beside the sniper, whose eyes were keen and heart was steady even as his knees shook and his goggles fogged over and the plants in his hands sparked and bit and played with the white and blue masses, turning the ground a solid, deep red. He cried and cried and cried for both of them, his companion still skinned and breathing and alive enough for his own red to join the splatter surrounding them as the dark sword broke through the mass and sliced him in half. Sliced them both in half.

Then the world faded out into the haze surrounding everything and nothing and he clutched the tone dial to his chest as he hums into the dead sea around him.

Where were they and where is he and who were they, the bodies around him, sinking into the sea and the snow and bleeding and decaying and rolling across the deck before him?

_Who is he?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See those tags about slow burn and coherent timelines? Yeah, I'm really not kidding about that....
> 
> Hope you liked it!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll are blowing me out of the water with the comments and kudos! Thank you so much for the support and I'm glad so many of you are liking this ridiculous story.
> 
> And on with the show!

Luffy isn’t surprised that he’s immediately turned around and lost, floating in a slowly sinking dinghy without an island or ship or help in sight. He’s the Captain so he needs his navigator to move about the seas. This just means he needs to find Nami soon.

The breeze is gentle, just like everything in the East. Just like Chopper when he takes care of the crew after a fight. Just like Sanji when he dances around the kitchen when he thinks no one’s looking. Just like Zoro when he balances along the Sunny’s rail with ethereal grace as he fights invisible opponents. Just like Ace and Sabo when they knock off his hat so they can ruffle his hair before running ahead and—

He shakes his head and looks around for a passing fish. His stomach is grumbling and he’s not likely to find Sanji’s floating restaurant anytime soon. He needs Nami for that. Or Jinbe. Or Usopp.

Usopp had always been great at picking up skills, filling in when people needed an extra hand or eye or brain. And Syrup was closer than Cocoyashi or Fishman Island. Right?

Part of him really wants to find Zoro first though. It doesn’t feel right, sailing around without his first mate more than any other. Or, he can try and find Koby and get him away from Alvida earlier, convince him that pirates were better than the _Marines._

Luffy has never been one for deep thought or contemplation beyond what meat to eat first or which opponent looks the strongest, but he can’t help thinking about the future. He’s met plenty of wonderful people in the Marines. Just look at Smokey and everyone at Punk Hazard. And Gramps isn’t the worst person when he isn’t trying to convince him and Ace to be Marines. And Koby is a really cool person who wants to make the world a better place. But the Marines serve the World Government and the World Government is the Celestial Dragons and they all need to _burn._

Would calling the revolutionaries help? He could make Sabo remember him and Ace and get their help to find the rest of his crew. Then, they could find Torao and use his brain to plan for the future with Luffy’s knowledge. Then, they would stop Ace dying and Sabo missing out on his chance to see his brother and keep Whitebeard alive and stop Teach from destroying so much of the world and make the Marines pay for everything they’d done. There is so much to do and so little time and Luffy may not be the best planner, a strategist like Nami or Robin or Torao. But, he has the strength to make sure the world is better in the end. And he _will_ make the world a better place, for his crew and Torao and all the people who just want to live free.

Maybe he _is_ his father’s son after all.

~*~

Usopp takes everything surprisingly well, in the end. He wakes in a bit of a startle and spends most of the first day having a series of panic attacks at his house in Syrup in between muttering to himself about how everything must have been a weirdly detailed and interesting dream and staring at the sky while lost in thought. It’s when he realizes that he can’t remember what’s in his pantry or where his slingshot is that he starts to believe that maybe everything really did happen.

(That maybe he’d sailed the seas with the best crew in the world. That maybe he hadn’t been the Captain or the strongest or the hero all the time, but he had become a part of something greater. That maybe he had seen some of the greatest wonders of the world and lived to tell the tale. That maybe, in the end, they hadn’t been fast or strong enough.)

(That maybe he hadn’t watched their backs carefully enough. That maybe he’d watched as the Marines destroyed Law’s ship and murdered Robin, killed Nami and Chopper and Sanji and Zoro and _Brook._ That maybe he’d watched that last sword fall as it became his end because facing Luffy and Franky and Jinbe after letting the rest of the crew down, not watching their backs carefully enough, was something he just couldn’t do. That maybe he was the greatest disappointment. That maybe he’d let his crew down.)

(It will _not. happen. again._ )

So, he adapts and learns and takes a bit of inspiration from the quieter members of his crew.

What stops first is the daily run through the village. He doesn’t need the villagers to remember him anymore. He knows his father’s not coming back, not with his mom dead and Usopp on his way to becoming a great pirate.

(It bites that the man never sent word, probably doesn’t even _know_ that Mom is dead or that Usopp was growing up alone in a village that despised him for being the son of a pirate. He has so many plans for when they finally meet and he knows the crew will help him make the man regret forgetting about his family.)

After a few days of silence, observing the village grow more and more tense, waiting for Usopp to make a ruckus and run amok, he decides to act. He walks into town, market basket and his small allowance in hand to shop for food. What little was in his cupboards before his return to the past was completely decimated by his increased hunger and he wants to make an impression.

Even the few days of strength training and improvised workouts he’s had time for now that he’s in his weaker, childish body, have left their mark. Yes, his arms burn like nothing else and he’s limping a bit from a bad fall, but he shows no weakness in town and people notice. Some stare and some whisper and some smile at him with so much pride that Usopp doesn’t know if he wants to scoff or cry. He’s never known the village to see him as anything but a problem.

(And he starting to realize how fun it is to mess with the villagers. Plans are already forming in the back of his mind. He _might_ be a little spiteful, even after all this time.)

It’s on his walk home that he remembers his other “crew” and Kaya. Piiman comes running out of the trees, Ninjin and Tamanegi on his heels. They’re huffing and trembling as they slam into his legs.

“Usopp! Where were you?”

“Are you okay?”

“You’re not sick are you?”

They bounce around him, each talking over the others as they alternately cling to his clothes and try to pull him down so they can get a better look at him. Concern is written all over their faces.

He’s missed them so much, he just didn’t know how much until now.

“Guys, guys, I’m alright,” He says, letting them pull him to the ground and grabbing them in a massive, squirming hug as he sits, “Sorry for worrying you.”

He’s grinning wide, eyes a little teary and voice just to the side of hoarse.

Piiman, his unofficial first mate and the future leader of the Usopp Pirates, is the first to pull back and stick Usopp with what’s trying, (and failing in the most _adorable_ way) to be a stern glare, “We weren’t worried. We just hadn’t seen you for a while and you hadn’t come through town and then you weren’t at home…”

The other two immediately pipe up in agreement. Neither loosen their hold in the least. Usopp doesn’t mind.

After a few minutes of letting the boys say their piece, Usopp lets them go so he can stand. After he makes it to his feet, he scoops up Tamanegi and drops him on his shoulders. The strain of the last few days of training leaves his arms shaking and burning, but he ignores it. He has to be stronger when he leaves this time.

(And if he preens a bit at the wonderment in his crew’s gazes, well, he’s never turned down an ego boost. Maybe they’ll take after him and become the strongest in the village. Then, after he’s gone, they’ll be a better line of defense for Kaya and the rest of Syrup. He won’t leave them unprotected this time, even if that protection is never needed. Better safe than sorry has _definitely_ become his motto.)

He walks back to his house and listens to his crew tell him all about their made-up adventures, throwing in his own commentary from time to time, but letting them lead the conversation.

(He carefully ignores the twinges of the barely-there scar that bisects his chest as they walk. He already has enough nightmares.)

~*~

She wakes with a start and stares around her room. Nothing has changed in years, but something feels _different._ She can hear Merry and Klahadore quietly chatting in the hall, their conversation fading as they walk off. Her window is cracked open, the wind fluttering the curtains. One of her butlers would have closed the window had they checked on her so she can’t have been asleep long.

Outside, the branches of the tree rustle and tap along the pane, slow and even like a lullaby. She settles back and watches the leaves dance. Usopp should be stopping by soon. He hadn’t come in almost a week so he must be crafting the most wonderous stories for her.

It would be easier if Merry and Klahadore weren’t so protective. Usopp’s stories always make her feel better, make her feel like she’s a part of the wider world and not floating alone on a tiny island up on the hill. She rarely feels worse after spending a day in front of the open window, listening to the winding tales and fictional feats of wonder Usopp liked to spin.

(And if her enjoyment brings out a smile on the face of her somber friend, well. She isn’t the only lonely child in Syrup.)

Kaya lies back and watches the tree branches dance and lets the rhythmic taping lull her into a peaceful, happy sleep.

~*~

Bepo isn’t sure what to freak out about first. Law is collapsed on the floor, breathing labored and strained by the extreme overuse of his power. The crew is running around trying to figure out what’s going on. They’ve been eaten by a sea king but not really since they’re just _sitting_ in its mouth. This has _not_ been a good day.

“What the _fuck_ is going on?” whispers Penguin as he scans the consoles near Bepo, “ _What the fuck_!?”

And wasn’t that just the phrase of the day. First, he dies in the future after an hours long fight with a scarily competent battalion of Marines. Then, he wakes up almost four years in the past to his Captain passed out from using his power to bring them back; which, considering the absolute confusion on Law’s face when he first stumbled onto the bridge, _was_ _entirely on accident_. And now they’re in the mouth of a sea king that doesn’t hate them like the smaller, malicious sea king that they’d just been saved from?

It’s an old habit, at least from his point of view but, “I’m sorry.”

Penguin frowns in his own long held habit and turns to glare at Bepo for a moment before turning back to the monitor, “Don’t _apologize_. This isn’t your fault.”

The urge to apologize again, just for the burst of warmth and familiarity it brings him, is strong, but Bepo resists and turns back to his Captain.

Ikkaku is crouched beside Law, stethoscope pressed to his chest and face pale, “Shit. His heartrate’s skyrocketing.”

Grabbing Uni, Shachi drops to his knees opposite her, “Can we move him?”

His voice is shaking and frightened in a way he hasn’t been since they were scared kids following in the wake of an angry, sick, teenage captain as they dodged slavers and Marines with nothing more than a decrepit dinghy and a pile of blankets to their name. Bepo hates it.

“Definitely. We need him back in Med Bay with a heart monitor and fluids, maybe get him on oxygen as well. I’ll get things ready,” and Ikkaku takes off, leaving Shachi and Uni to grab Law.

He wants to follow so bad, and he can see most of the crew watching, aching to do the same. But they have jobs to do.

“Alright,” Bepo calls as they leave the room, “Clione, engine status, Hokkyo, where are we air-wise?”

Clione responds with an affirmative, all systems green and functioning normally. Hokkyo is silent for just a few seconds too long and Bepo turns, concerned. 

“We’ll be good for a few more hours, but…” Hokkyo’s voice is steady, but the kid is trembling. One of the youngest on the crew, and still new if Bepo has his timeline right, Hokkyo is handling the situation admirably.

But still.

Bepo reaches over and places a careful paw on his shoulder, “Then no need to worry. We’ll figure something out. All else fails, we have a few filters we can modify, right Clione?”

“Of course, Bepo. It’ll be a fun challenge! We can get started right away,” The cheer is clearly forced, but they all appreciate the effort when Hokkyo smiles.

With nothing they can do and Law out of commission, they’re in a holding pattern. It won’t be long before things go critical, but without the experience of the crew he’s used to, Bepo feels lost.

Penguin is still standing to the side, watching the monitors with laser focus as the rest of the crew starts filing out, going back to their stations or going to check on Law. The crew members left on the bridge are quietly chatting as they watch their assigned monitors, trying to break the tension.

There’s a vibration in his stance that speaks of concealed panic, like he can’t believe his eyes. It’s concerning because Bepo was sure that, of the entire crew, Shachi and Penguin would be the last to break, would be able to get past the initial shock and take things in stride. They’ve been through the most, seen some of the crazy shit Law tries to hide behind a placid smile and stern exterior.

This….is concerning.

“What is it?” Bepo pitches his voice low, forcing an unconcerned demeanor directly antithetical to the tremor shaking his paws because he can’t have the crew panic anymore. They _need_ to be calm.

“Well, if the instruments are still functioning correctly, which is a maybe because _we are in the mouth of a Sea King,_ then it looks like it’s heading into the Grandline,” The panicked edge from earlier is growing, turning from a terrified first reaction into full blown hysteria.

Oh fuck.

“And why hasn’t it swallowed us?” Penguin’s knuckles are stark white from where his hands are clutching the panel, “Is it playing with us? Wants to drop us inside the most dangerous sea in the world without a log pose or map or anything? What the _fuck?_ ”

The panic is growing stronger, faster, and Bepo doesn’t know how to stop it, especially in a Penguin that hasn’t gone through Zou or Rocky Port or any of Paradise. This is a Penguin that is a friend, a comrade, but there’s still a distance left from the problems they had as children. He’s so much more naïve, still too assured of luck and fairness in a world that defies all logic. If this were _his_ Penguin he would just…

Well, it couldn’t hurt, right?

Bepo steps behind Penguin, carefully reaching around him and pulling his hands from the panel. It takes barely a moment to spin the man around and wrap him in a hug. Penguin squeaks in a way that Bepo knows the man will be extremely embarrassed about later before stilling, then relaxing and sinking into the embrace. Both of them are still shaking, still panicked and shocked from the events of the day and there’s no end in sight, but it’s better than it could be.

Bepo could still be dead, having watched his crew and Captain murdered before his eyes. They could be dying, crushed and eaten by a Sea King. They could be sailing, not knowing what was to come in just a few short years. But now, they are alive, saved by fate and luck and the weird logic that rules the world and they have a chance to be better, to survive the coming challenges.

For now, there’s hope.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yep, Luffy's got a brain behind all that brawn, he just doesn't use it much.
> 
> And another fighter enters the ring! I love Usopp so, so much guys.
> 
> Hope ya'll liked it and thanks for reading!


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This one's a bit shorter, but it felt right to cut it where I did.
> 
> Thanks for reading and I hope you like it!

The first thing he notices when he wakes is how dark it is. The island had been blindingly bright, sun reflecting off the snow and whiting out his vision as he ran and fought and kicked his way through the Marines. Every step had crunched and shattered across the frozen expanse, the fire he brought with him doing nothing to heat the air around him. Done nothing to soften the snow as he’d fallen forward into a pool of his own, freezing blood. Done nothing to help him as death consumed him.

And yet it was night, the air warm and tranquil, a soft, salty breeze wafting through the open window above his hammock.

This can’t be heaven. Frankly, there aren’t enough women in skimpy clothing for this to be anything resembling that unearthly realm. And it can’t be hell. He’s been to hell. He shudders for a moment, stretching his senses in search of any sign of Ivankov or their people. Sensing nothing, he finally turns to looking around him, slightly ashamed at how long it had taken him to start thinking straight through the panic and desperation left over from the fight.

It takes him a long minute to recognize his surroundings, and when he does, his mouth gapes.

He’s on the Baratie. Around him, light breathing and soft snores fill the air and he wonders at how he hadn’t heard them before. The sounds are familiar, a tattoo that beats in his heart and he find he can still identify who each snort and snuffle and sigh belong to.

But this doesn’t make any sense? He’d been fighting on the damned island, Zoro at his back while Franky and the Bear had run with the exhausted Luffy and Law. And Usopp had pulled out some crazy new plant with Brook guarding him as he took aim and Nami was yelling and Chopper was limp in the water and the Heart Pirates sub was a ball of flames burning on the water with Robin trapped inside and he just kept kicking and kicking and—

Sanji flings himself from his hammock, uncaring of his heavy tread in the quiet room as he flees for the bathroom down the hall.

Everything in his path is achingly familiar and Sanji wants, oh so desperately, to sob and shout and scream but he has no air. He gasps as he stumbles, shoulder slamming into the wall as he rounds into the bathroom at a sprint, arms already outstretched to catch himself at the sink.

Eyes blurry, tears fully formed and beginning to leak down his cheeks, he studies himself in the mirror. Part on the wrong side, goatee barely formed, skin too smooth to be anything but a boy’s complexion. Everything about it is _wrong_. He was supposed to be a man who’d faced his demons and walked away, head held high. Instead, he’s looking at the terrified boy who still clutches at the apron strings of the man who raised him.

Sanji leans forward, arms and legs growing weak as he stares and stares and stares at the boy he once was. Forehead meeting glass, he finally pulls in a full breath just in time for a sob to rip itself from his chest. It shudders and scratches past his lips, quiet and heart-wrenching. His hands clench and he gasps for air desperately in-between breathy, shaking moans.

Jinbe, missing, likely dead before he could warn them of the following fleet.

Robin, killed in the first surprise volley as the Marines had appeared, seemingly from thin air.

Chopper, falling, hit the water hard, a bullet cutting through his neck and sending him tumbling off the cliff.

Nami, thrown in after Chopper, a knock to the head disorienting her before they tossed her out like trash.

Usopp, crying, _sobbing_ , snot and tears making his aim shaky no matter how hard he focused.

Brook, surrounded, desperately trying to fight his way back to Usopp.

Zoro, down on one knee, broken teeth clenched desperately around his sword as his arms swung uselessly at his sides.

Franky, running, kicking up frost and clutching their protesting Captain to him as he ran.

Luffy, calling out, mouth moving but no sound passing his lips, exhausted beyond measure but still trying to fight like the stubborn idiot they all love.

And Sanji. Sanji lying in the snow. Sanji watching as crisp white became deep red became cloying black.

He doesn’t realize that his eyes are closed until a hand gently touches his shoulder.

Heart suddenly racing, adrenaline spiking, Sanji pushes away from the sink, blurry eyes shooting open as he spins to see blond braids and laugh lines.

Zeff’s face is doing the thing that Sanji hates. It’s not quite pity, and there’s more than enough concern, but there’s also confusion and worry in equal measure. Usually, when Sanji was growing up, he’d plaster on a smile and ask the man to teach him a new trick or start going on about how beautiful one of their female customers was. It’s easier to deflect than trying to explain the past Sanji desperately wants to ignore.

Right now, with the deaths of his crew so close, the horrors of those last minutes sitting just behind his breastbone and beating out an uneven, staccato rhythm that squeezes his lungs and stops his heart, Sanji can’t do it. Instead, he backs away, frantically trying to put distance between them. He doesn’t want his father to see him but can’t push him away.

Sanji’s back hits the tiled wall of the showers, feet catching momentarily on the small lip that separates the washing area from the rest of the bathroom. His feet (bare he notes, mind distant) slip through a puddle leftover from the last occupant and he falls, crashing downward and slamming into the hard floor.

(His back aches along his old scar and the bullets that _killed_ _him_ burn through his skin.)

His hands clench and pull at his hair, an old habit from childhood, when he would wake up convinced he was back in that dark dungeon with that damn helmet locked to his head. He pulls further into himself, trying to ignore everything around him. He needs to control his breathing, to stop worrying Zeff, to focus on what’s going on.

But then there’s a grip gently prying his hands away from his scalp and pushing between him and the wall. Zeff is pulling him forward, into a hug that is _so damn painful_ because this is the man Sanji loves beyond anything, the real father he never knew he had until they were half a world apart.

Sanji _breaks._

He cries and sobs and falls apart in Zeff’s careful hold in a way he’d never let himself before the Strawhats and Sabaody and the Wedding. He can feel the confusion and concern in the tension around his shoulders, but the care and attention in the calm, steady heartbeat pressed into his ear eases some of the tightness in his chest. It’s a comfort he’s not sure he deserves, but it’s a comfort he needs.

A wave of exhaustion hits as the tears slowdown and Sanji knows he’ll need to explain everything later, but for now he just slumps in Zeff’s hold and lets the dark close in again. This time he’s not beaten and bloody and watching a hammer descend onto an already slashed and shot and bruised chest. This time he’s not waiting for death to take him into its painful and terrifying arms.

He takes a deep breath and sleeps.

~*~

Zeff is terrified as Sanji goes limp in his arms.

The boy has always been a firecracker, spirit bright and fierce no matter the circumstances. There had been nightmares that spawned from something before they met, before the rock and the starvation, but nothing like _this_. There’d been no warning, nothing to wake most of the cooks in the shared bedroom. Sanji had gone from calm sleep to sheer, silent terror in moments. How he kept it together enough to stumble to the bathroom before freaking out _this bad_ , Zeff has no idea. Sanji just isn’t like this. If Patty hadn’t stumbled into his room after Sanji tripped past his bed and into the doorframe just loud enough to catch his notice as he dozed, none of them would have known Sanji was up at all.

He shifts sideways, preparing to lean against the wall for as long as it takes for Sanji to wake, when he catches sight of Patty and Carne hovering in the doorway. They both look confused and concerned in equal measure.

“Zeff…you want a hand?” Carne asks, voice pitched low.

A moment of consideration and he nods. While this may have worked if Sanji were still the little kid from the rock, the young man in his lap is too much for his old bones.

The three are careful as they pry Sanji’s hands from Zeff’s shirt and move him to one of the couches in the lounge. Patty’s quick to grab a blanket and drop it over the kid. They settle along another couch and watch Sanji breath for a few minutes.

Patty’s the first to break the silence, turning to face Zeff, “He say anything?” 

“Not a thing. Didn’t seem to hear anything I was saying either. I’ve never seen him this bad,” Zeff sighs and leans forward, propping his chin on a clenched fist as he stares at the kid, “Not even the Rock gave him this much of a scare.”

“And whatever there was before?” Carne asks, voice so timid he barely sounds like the harsh, exacting chef he is.

It’s something they rarely discussed, and usually only if it came up with a newer chef. Sanji occasionally had nightmares, calling out for his mother or someone named “Reiju”, but never seeming to remember them in the morning. Sanji refused to talk about his past the few times Zeff asked about it when the kid was small so they only knew it was something horrible. So horrible, that the kid hadn’t talked about it when they talked about everything during those last days on the rock. So terrible that the threat of death hadn’t pried anything out of the kid.

“Other than the hair-pulling? I don’t think so.”

“He’s back at that?” Patty sounds almost heartbroken. As one of the first recruits, Patty had watched Sanji grow up alongside Zeff. The first few years, Sanji had grabbed at his hair almost constantly. One of the chef’s shouted, Sanji’s hands were in his hair. A plate was dropped, Sanji was ducking away with his arms over his head. A woman in the dining room laughed shrilly, Sanji was curling into himself and clutching at his scalp. All of the cooks worked with him, making sure to telegraph as many things as they could and ruffling the kid’s hair whenever they saw him cringing away. Eventually, the flinches and hiding and hair pulling had faded out and the kid had turned into the lecherous hellion they were all incredibly proud of.

“Maybe it’s just a one-time thing?” Carne suggests.

Zeff runs a hand over his face and sighs, “Here’s hoping.”

They watch Sanji breath, chest rising and falling alongside the sway of the restaurant on the calm sea. The clock chimes as the sun begins to crest over the horizon. The other cooks start to rise, the quiet thumps and grumbles of men used to rising with the day filling the living space.

Sanji sleeps on.

“Here’s hoping.”

~*~

The sea breeze is turning, something coming from below and the East is supposed to be logical, for all that _logical_ truly means nothing in the face of reality, so this must be bad. A low hum starts, sitting deep in his chest and moving up his throat as though he’s the one talking, but he can’t. He knows that he can only hear the Voice, not respond. He’s not Momo or Weepy-hoshi.

The hum rises into a whine, pushing down and through him. It almost burns, like fire and ice all mixed together in a storm of sound and pain. It doesn’t make sense, words singing through his head without understanding and he wants to scream from the pain in a way he hasn’t since Sabo died, since _Ace_ died.

There’s no one to talk to out here in the middle of the sea. The ocean surrounds him and for the first time, he finds himself afraid of the water. It’s dark and everywhere and so lonely that it’s like sitting at Makino’s bar when he was a little kid.

(Back, when Makino was the only person to care for him. Back when Makino had so many responsibilities that the only way she could watch him was to sit him on a stool and ask him to stay. Back when Luffy was sitting in a sea of people older than him and wiser than him and unwilling to even spend a _few minutes_ talking to the silent boy with the large, forced smile. He hates it.)

Hands around his head and legs curled toward his chest, Luffy screams, yells out at the world even though it never answers back, never seems to hear him like he can hear it.

But then, something changes.

It’s not words, not like hearing the Sea Kings or the massive Elephant or even the murmurs of the fish and other sea creatures as the Sunny passes through their waters. This is a physical call to action, a push in a direction and nothing but Luffy’s gut says to follow and so he does.

(It almost feels like following Ace in the forest so long ago, trying to be friends with the kid who feels so lonely, feels angry and hopeless and so damn sad. Like trailing behind his brothers as they run and fight and play through a forest that became home and safety when it only represented death and pain to everyone else. Like finding his crew, one by one as they fought and cried and tried to be the best versions of themselves that Luffy had seen the moment he’d met each of them.)

This feeling, hum, whine turns his head, spots the barest hint of an island in the distance and pulls his focus in, forcing him to look, to _feel._

Sitting, right on the edge of his conscious, right before the failure of his range, Luffy finds one of the lights he’s desperately searching for.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is this? No Heart Pirates this chapter? How dare I!
> 
> Beyond that, Sanji's section is the first part I wrote for this entire story, completely off the cuff (and a little drunk, tbh.) You can definitely tell that I was still in the Whole Cake Island Arc when I started writing this. Just the Zeff Feels alone!
> 
> And more mystery with Luffy because why not?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another short one...I promise I don't do this on purpose, but again it was a good place to cut the narrative.
> 
> Hope you like it!

Zoro is pissed.

He was just having the time of his life, slashing and cutting and fighting his way through swathes of Marines and now he’s walking around in a completely different area which _doesn’t make any sense._ And sure, it feels familiar, but so does every island they visit. Not familiar in the way the Sunny does, but familiar in that he knows it from somewhere? Or will know it? Or should know it?

Anyways, it makes his head hurt to think about too much and he has much more important things to worry about, like why he’s still standing after that last blow?

Ok, don’t get him wrong, he’s always been the strongest on the crew, bar Luffy getting serious and Jinbe on a good day, but even he gets taken down once in a while. Sometimes quantity overtakes quality and they had been fighting for hours and he had taken a bad hit.

A very bad hit.

His teeth had shattered minutes before, a bullet that barely missed his head scoring a line through his cheek and a galaxy of slashes slowing him down enough for a Marine with a massive hammer to swing into his jaw, slamming Wado Ichimonji out of his mouth and out of sight.

Another slash, another cut. Bullets he can’t block because he lost use of his arms and Wado Ishimonji had been his last defense and—

Over everything, the yelling and explosions and gunshots, the beat of Sanji’s heart _stops_.

Nami intakes a breath full of water and fades out, never regaining consciousness.

Chopper cries out the last of his air as he sinks to the seafloor.

And Zoro?

He took one last moment to scream and yell and force all of his will onto the killers around him as the blade descended and the world went black.

And now, he’s in a tiny, winding village on a warm island that feels familiar in a past sort of way instead of an immediate (future?) one and his crew is _missing_.

The wounds from before have left their marks and his face is burning where his scarred eye is. Was? Will be?

Nothing makes _sense_!

(Most of the village’s residents watch the strange man as he mumbles to himself and crosses back and forth through the main street. Somehow, the man goes from walking North to heading East to starting back at the South end of the village all without actually connecting his steps. And yet, the man keeps missing the dock. He stops occasionally, asking for directions or information about the island. And sometimes, he pauses for just a moment, head swiveling around as though he sees something else, something important and dangerous and incoming, but not truly there. His eyes glow, the movement of his head leaving trailing streaks of red as he sees _something._ )

(It is an omen and the village waits with baited breath for the man to leave.)

~*~

The Thousand Sunny is almost sea-worthy by the end of the second week. Franky blasts as many colas as physically possible and ignores the concerned murmurings of his family as he pieces Her together as fast as he can. That is not to say he doesn’t take the time and care to make sure She’s of the best quality but working on the same ship for years and reworking Her parts in record time has become habit. It’s only when he passes a certain bulkhead and finds a missing scuff mark or finds himself looking for a small battle scar does he remember that this is not the ship that had seen the New World.

But he’s not alone, now. Zambai is the first to join, with Tamagon and Kiev soon ferrying most of the family onto the ship. Everyone is looking to Franky, watching as he displays skills and knowledge that seem years beyond what they’d seen just the week previous when they’d taken apart a small fleet of Rookies. It’s only when Franky hears Mozu and Kiwi’s worried whispers that he realizes just how weird he is now compared to the first time around.

It’s almost disheartening to remember about how little he thought of them after he joined his crew. Of course he’d sent the occasional letter and seen the little blips and blurbs about his former crime family in the back pages of the newspaper, but he’d been so hyper-focused on the future that the past barely registered. Thus, at the end of the third week, with Sunny able to sail if not nearly finished, he stops their work and has a party to celebrate the main completion.

(He’ll figure out where to get the rest of the funds he needs to finish the more complicated parts of the Sunny later. For now, he’ll enjoy the family he has and promise never to forget them.)

Iceburg stops by mid-party, and instead of scowling and scoffing as he was want to do when Franky was still young and scrawny and acting much too arrogant for his own good, he just smiles, takes a beer and settles in. He catches Franky’s eye and gives him a subtle nod before going back to what looks like a rousing conversation between Scholizo and Sodom.

Good. Telling Iceburg about CP9 was easy. Getting him to _believe_ that some of his most valuable employees, including his beloved secretary, were actually assassins looking to steal Pluton’s plans and eventually destroy the entire infrastructure of Water 7 through his assassination was _much harder_. Even after Franky had told his story and gotten Iceberg’s support in building the Thousand Sunny, there had still been a seed of doubt. Franky wasn’t sure what had changed the man’s mind but seeing that he was watching the future traitors was more relieving than Franky thought possible.

He gives it an hour before sauntering over, a new bottle in hand to replace the one Iceberg’s been nursing since he arrived.

(He doesn’t ask about Kalifa or the other spies. Doesn’t ask about how, or even _if_ , Iceberg had managed to sneak away from his watchers. They both know it doesn’t matter in the end. Iceberg had been resigned to die for his city from the moment Tom was taken away, this was just accelerating the timeline.)

(Franky still wants to _shake_ the idiot until he learns to value his life as much as he did the city.)

“You want to see Her?”

Iceberg barely takes the time to pretend he’s humoring Franky before bouncing to his feet and following in an entirely unconvincing stroll. The closest family members share quiet smiles as behind their backs as they walk to the hidden shipyard. Both are cut from the same cloth and, no matter their differences, they’re both shipwrights with building ingrained in their bones.

It takes a few minutes and they’re away from the rest of the family. Placing a hand on Franky’s shoulder, Iceberg slows them to a stop.

“You’ve…changed.”

And yeah, that’s more than true. Franky had always been the outgoing younger brother who got into all of the trouble while Iceberg was quiet and wise and always looking after everyone like an exasperated older brother. Even with the growth of the Franky Family and the passage of years, Franky had only gained true maturity after setting out. The change of scenery and chance to grow had calmed him down considerably.

(The less said about the tea on Karakuri Island and its strange effects, the better.)

“I thought you got that from the last time we talked?”

“A bit, but it didn’t really hit me. Now….” Iceberg trails off, looking out across the ocean.

“Now I’m actually deserving of the plans?” Franky quirks a small smile.

Glaring, Iceberg responds, “No, you idiot. It’s just…You’re so focused. Like Tom.”

It hits Franky hard in the gut and his face falls. Anyone who had known them when they were apprentices and watched them trail after Tom would have seen the absolute hero worship in both of them. And seen the shame in Franky after he failed Tom.

(There has been so much sitting in the back of Franky’s, no _Cutty’s,_ mind for years. The failure to save Tom, stop the damn train, become a man worthy of his legacy. It’s something that still held him back even as he traveled with his crew. Something that time has never put a dent in. Something he keeps letting grow in the back of his mind.)

(Franky wants to cry.)

He shakes his head, “There’s no way—”

“No,” Iceberg cuts him off, squeezing Franky’s shoulder, “He’d be _so damn proud_ of who you are, who you’ve been. Never let _anyone_ , not even me, tell you any different.”

Tears are forming in Franky’s eyes and he has too much to do before he can let himself breakdown.

(Has too much to think about before he can even begin to believe what Iceberg says is true.)

“Well…hmm…” Franky clears his throat and turns away, “I have some _suuuper_ plans to show you, get your opinion, you know.”

Iceberg smiles gently and lets it go, “Of course. Show me the crazy you somehow make functional.”

“Oi!”

It’s hours later and the night is breaking into a quiet dawn as Iceberg and Franky debate and plot and plan more additions to the Thousand Sunny. She may not be the exact same ship, but She will have the same spirit, the same heart. She will carry them to their dreams.

The future shown bright as first light crested over the sea. A new day was dawning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh Zoro.....
> 
> And Franky! Just when you thought you'd gotten away without the intense emotional conversations, Iceberg and his Dad Aura shows up.
> 
> (I think Iceberg may be a little OOC, but hey, it's fanfic, right?)
> 
> Again, I call attention to that 'Slow Burn' tag....sorry if this seems painfully slow?


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! A longer chapter this time!
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

The sun is warm when she wakes. It’s a stark difference from the chilling wind and freezing sea she remembers from her dream. It had been colder than anything she’d ever experienced. It’s something she hopes to never feel in actuality.

It had been odd, finding herself surrounded by people who love her for all her faults, who helped her regain her village without asking for anything, not having any malicious motivation or hidden agenda. They ask her to be their navigator, yes, but they want her for her friendship _before_ her skills, follow her direction without questioning. She’s the weakest, physically, but they don’t doubt her smarts, her strength. They value her. They _love her._

A cook, strong and chivalrous and more than a little perverted, but he’s lovable and caring and kind to a fault, able to forgive almost anything and willing to destroy himself for the one’s he loves, a prince with a dark past and a bright future who fights to the end and beyond for the crew.

A swordsman, three swords and the most stubborn idiocy she can imagine, but he’s the quiet foundation that never crumbles and she finds herself leaning on him more than once when she needs the support, following behind as he cuts through enemies and gets lost and causes the most unnecessary chaos.

An archeologist, smart and strong and calm, a woman with the oddest, darkest humor that freaks out the crew and makes her laugh and is the most refreshing person to spend time with because she doesn’t care about how the world perceives her, searches further and further for the truth, meeting her goals head first and heart strong.

A doctor, the cutest reindeer in the world with a bright blue nose, who sits with her on the deck as she watches the sky and tracks the pressure and wonders about the newest wonder they’ll find at the next island, who runs around the ship and plays with the others and is an absolute cuddle monster when the mood strikes.

A shipwright, a super cyborg with the strength and wisdom of age, who claims to be a pervert despite all acts to the contrary, who is the older brother to the crew, who sits and listens and entertains them when they just need someone to be there so they don’t go crazy with worry or fear when something new and insane takes them into the most unpredictable path.

A sniper, lies and posturing and stories that fill the imagination with the most wonderful images, the one who will always be at her back and keeping her safe no matter the shaking of his knees and the trembling of his arms, who pushes until the whole crew is smiling and happy, who is the last on the boat, always watching and protecting them with every trick in his bag so he doesn’t have to lose another important person to the passage of time.

A musician, the tallest skeleton to sing sea chanties and dance about the deck, hair big and waving in the sea air, fingerbones playing a staccato rhythm along the strings of a violin as he brightens their voyage, who always has a kind word and a soft heart and a unjudging mind that knows how to calm the darkest oceans of emotion when their waves become overwhelming under the pressure of time and fear.

A helmsman, big and broad and all around more gentle than any man she’s ever met, quiet humor and a deep laugh that rolls through her with the heat of happiness instead of the cold fear Fishmen meant for so long, and duty to the world as much as a duty to the crew that had him trailing behind for so long but still always present.

And a Captain, stretchy limbs and a giant smile and the heart that brings them all together, who never lets them down, who fights for each of them without fail, the dumbest idiot and the smartest kid, a little brother who leads them all into the weirdest adventures and the strongest companion any of them could have wished for.

The boy, kid, man with the Straw Hat who would do anything for the family he’s built. The Captain they would lay their lives down for.

And they do.

It _hurts_ , thinking of Jinbe, their newest member and someone she’d thought impossible to befriend in the beginning. The first lost, missing from the action only in that he must have been the first killed. Taken down before he could warn them of the approaching fleet, or worse, missing the fleet and meeting them later only to find their bodies on that damned island.

Thinking of Robin, the woman she looked up to, the strongest woman she’d known since Bellemere’s death. She’d died in an instant, before they knew what was happening, what was coming out of the odd fog surrounding the freezing island.

Thinking of Chopper, body plump with the power of his kung-fu point, bleeding bright from a massive hole in his neck as he stumbles back. Shrinking arms coming up to clutch at his wound. Faltering hooves backing away from the encroaching marines. Crumbling rock breaking away from the cliff they’re standing on. Crashing waves swallowing the body of her dear friend as she runs, calling out, _crying_ out for the little reindeer as the deadly sea tries to take its prize.

Thinking of the pain that slammed into her head, swirling the world into a miasma of sound and color. The sharp gravel digging into her knees. The crunch of boots as they approach. The shouts and yelling that mumble through her brain as arms lift her. The rush of wind. The sharp impact. The cloying, freeze surrounding her as she sank and sank and _sank_.

Even her dreams can’t end happy, can they.

She sighs and looks around her desk. The light from the high window is growing and the air smells fresh with the morning breeze. Maps cover the surface, drafts and notes and completed charts all mixed in an organized mess. It’s a complicated system, but none of the Fishmen have figured it out so she keeps it up. It keeps her awake long into the night, making everything as coded as possible and mixed to the point where they have to keep her around long enough to buy the village’s freedom. This wouldn’t be the first time she’s fallen asleep across her desk. In fact—

And, yep, there’s the drool. Luckily, it’s on the _edge_ of her newest map. And the ink must have dried before she rolled her face through it. No smudges today, ain’t she just the luckiest.

Sitting back, she rolls her shoulders before stretching her arms above her head. She stops for a moment before grabbing her left shoulder. It feels different, like something missing. A quick glance and no, the damn tattoo is still there. But, it looks…wrong? This is her shoulder, the same one she sees in the mirror all the time but it feels alien. Everything feels alien.

(Tingles burn across her tattoo, but she puts it down to the dream. If it’s affecting her this badly, of course she’ll feel the phantom pull of the knife scars there.)

The dream is still heavy on her mind, a future so damn hopeful that there’s no way it’s real. She’s never been so lucky. And yet…

She shakes her head and mentally locks it away. She has no time for dreaming

Nami has no time for _hope_.

A knock at her door, a purely performative act, before a Fishman pokes their head in.

“Good, you’re awake. Come,” and they turn away.

She scrambles to her feet and follows.

The same _wrong_ feeling follows her through the day, through reporting her progress to Arlong, through a tense conversation with Genzo, through working on her recent notes.

Her hand keeps rubbing her the phantom marks on her shoulder, her eyes keep straying toward the horizon, her mind keeps opening that locked drawer and thinking about that wonderful dream.

And if she spends the rest of the day fidgeting with a pen, spinning it between her fingers in an uncanny mirror of her skills from the dream, well, it’s something that could help her in the future. She’s still collecting money to buy back her village and she’ll take any help she can to make it a faster task.

~*~

They’ve been in the mouth of a Sea King for over a day.

Clione and Hokkyo had rigged the air filter in the first hour, but the air is already starting to get stale. They will be okay for a while longer, but it isn’t an indefinite fix.

With nothing to do and the impending doom looming over them, most of the crew has migrated back to the infirmary, once again crowding around Law’s bed, waiting for him to wake up. Waiting for direction. Waiting for a miracle.

Law isn’t doing well. The strain of his powers and the youth of his body not matching the strength of his mind stressed his system to the point that they’re still keeping careful watch on the fluids and oxygen, attentive to the slightest change. His heart only stabilized a couple hours ago and only after more than a few terrifying drops.

Bepo gets up to check the monitors for the fifth time in as many minutes, then shakes his head and forces himself to leave the room instead. Sitting around worrying is doing nothing for his nerves and will just make him more and more antsy until he’s a quivering mess, shaking in a corner and panicking when he should be taking care of the crew. He’s First Mate for a reason, damnit.

He’s walking toward the bridge when he hears…something. He can’t quite tell _what_ it is and a spike of terror sends his heart racing before his mind has the chance to rationalize it.

Later, he will think he’s lucky there was no one else in the halls to see him break out into a panicked run. Later, he will laugh at how stupid he must have looked, hands shaking and feet stumbling as he raced toward a sound too quiet for the lesser-minks to hear. Later, he will reflect on just how shaken he was after everything and wonder just how he managed to keep it together this long.

Now, Bepo sprints, stumbling and shaking and _terrified_ toward an odd sound coming from the other side of the sub.

Was the Sea King finally swallowing them? Playing with them by slowly pulverizing the metal around them and waiting to hear their agonized screams before dealing the final blows? Opening its mouth and letting them out into waters too far down, too crushing for the sub to do anything but crumple in on them and drown the crew? Or—

Bepo pulls to an abrupt stop and stares.

Penguin is pressed in between the hull and one of the large, supporting beams. His eyes are wide, staring unseeing into the distance. His hat skewed to the side and his hands are pressed, white-knuckled, over his mouth as he tries to sink into the metal around him. Tears are pouring down his face and barely muffled sobs are shaking his shoulders.

Bepo doesn’t think he can deal with this.

(Not another crisis. Not now. He needs Penguin up and helping, not quiet and lost in his head like they’re kids again.)

(He’s not the Captain for a _reason_ damnit!)

Something must register for Penguin, pulling him back to reality because his eyes slowly drift up, following the line of Bepo’s body, pausing on the edges of the boiler suit before darting up to meet Bepo’s eyes.

“Bepo!” Penguin pushes away from the wall lightening quick, launching himself toward the startled mink, “Bepo! You’re alive! Oh gods, you’re alive!”

It’s automatic to wrap his arms around Penguin, pulling the man into his chest for the second time since this nightmare started. Penguin responds startingly fast. Even if this were the Penguin of his time he’d—

…he’d be wondering how they were _alive_?

Bepo’s voice is low and rumbling as he asks, “What happened, Pen?”

Voice hitching, Penguin answers, “Everyone died and—the Marines! They just—and Shachi and then you had the Captain and they were everywhere and I—” is all he gets out before he dissolves back into heaving sobs and holds on to Bepo like the mink is the only thing keeping him on his feet..

It’s horrifyingly out of place, but Bepo wants to laugh and cry in pure _joy_. Penguin, _his Penguin_ , is back too. It isn’t just him and a unconscious Law. It could be the rest of the Crew too, at some point. He’s so happy for just a moment that it almost hurts, and he squeezes Penguin to his chest, mirroring the man’s clutching grip.

“We’re alive, Pen. It’s alright, just breathe.”

It takes a few minutes, in which Bepo slowly moves them out of the hallway and into the closest room, for Penguin to sober enough to pull away. They’re in a storage closet full of the most random cleaning and medical supplies that make a mess Law will be disappointed in, but it’s empty of other crew members, which is all they need right now.

Penguin is finally calm, sobbing replaced with slow, shaking breaths. Bepo keeps a paw on his shoulder, needing the contact as much as he knows his crewmate does as they sit in silence for a few moments.

Penguin is the first to break, voice a quiet murmur as he asks, “Beps…what happened?”

And isn’t that the question of the decade. Bepo could chicken out, just explain what was currently happening, what with the time travel via Law’s devil fruit and the insanity that surround the D. Clan, but that’s not all there is. How did the Marines find them? How did they destroy two of the strongest crews in the New World without a single admiral backing them? How did they all die so damn fast that all they could do was run and hope their Captain survived to avenge them?

“I’ve got no _fucking_ idea,” Bepo’s voice breaks as tears start to well in his eyes, “Captain’s powers brought us back, gave us another chance but nothing from before makes sense.”

Reaching out, Penguin wraps an arm around Bepo’s shoulders and shifts to sit next to his friend, leaning against the wall of the closet and pulling his friend close again, “Then we’ll just have to figure it out, huh. We’ve got the time now, right?”

It pulls a watery laugh out of both of them before they settle back. Bepo is content to just sit, but he knows Penguin will have more to say. He turns and watches his crewmate, waiting for the other man to begin. It doesn’t take long.

“So, Captain’s out for a while?” At Bepo’s nods he continues, “I’ve got two sets of memories bouncing around. I don’t quite remember what we were doing the first time around but sitting in the mouth of a Sea King was definitely not it.”

“No, that’s...new,” Bepo shakes his head. Then, an old habit, “I’m sorry.”

Penguin tips his head back and chuckles, hoarse and breathy, “And just when we got you to stop. This is so fucked up.”

All Bepo can do is lay his head on Penguin’s, curling closer to his crewmate in silent apology and solidarity.

And then the entire sub abruptly tilts on its side.

~*~

Talking with Kaya _hurts_.

She’s exactly the person he remembers, the person he knows almost better than he knows himself, and it aches to think about how much change he’ll miss when he leaves. She was always the person he thought back to, considered sending letters to before they became too infamous for him to reach out. He never did. He couldn’t give her hope of more or ask her to wait for him. If he came back, if he could make it safe for her, he’d all the way sail back to Syrup and see if they still felt as meant for each other as they had when he left. But not before, not when he was the most dangerous thing in her life.

(He refuses to turn out like Roger, leaving the ones he loves behind to take the blame for his actions. Refuses to be Yasopp, for all that he looks up to the man. He won’t be leaving a life and family behind for the call of the sea, no matter how tantalizing.)

Which leads to the _other_ dangerous thing in her life.

Kuro is already her butler and a trusted member of the household. Usopp remembers well just how it went last time. He doesn’t have the back up of his crew, but he’s stronger now. Maybe not strong enough to take Kuro head on, but at least fast enough to dodge with his Observation Haki working overtime to give him an edge.

He’s trying to train his Armament Haki as a defense, which makes almost no sense from what he pried out of Zoro and patched together from Luffy and Jinbe’s explanations.

(And it’s extremely unfair that some Fishmen just know how to use their Haki when they’re born. Jinbe’s natural talent made his help even worse than Luffy’s scatterbrained comments and Zoro’s nonsensical analogies.)

It’s hard because nothing on in Syrup is truly dangerous to him. There’s some local wildlife that would be a problem if he really was the untrained teenager from before becoming a pirate. Hell, he’s not even sure it was that much of a danger before, considering the few bears and mountain lions that don’t run the moment he hears them can’t even scratch him.

(There are days when he wonders at just how skewed his idea of strength and speed is thanks to the _monsters_ he lived with. Now, among regular people, Usopp wonders if he’s not a monster himself. He feels weak in comparison to the others, yet he finds himself not tiring despite an entire day of running with the kids and training in the forest and pushing himself until his arms are shaking. Yes, he gets winded, but he finds himself recovering so quickly it’s almost supernatural.)

So, Armament is out for the foreseeable future, but talking to Kaya is still an option. She was pissed last time he tried to convince her that “Klahadore” was a pirate, but he was never quite as subtle as he wanted to be. For all that Kuro was an extreme danger, he made Kaya happy and was a cornerstone of her life. Thus, Usopp needed to be careful.

He’d start slow, with stories of pirates acting more dastardly and sneaky than just showing up and looting an island. Then he’d move into pirates with long cons, maybe basing a few of the stories off CP9 and the events of Water 7 and Enies Lobby. From there, he wasn’t sure where to progress. Getting too close to the truth could clue Kaya into what he was doing and upset her, but he wanted her to come to the conclusion on her own. He couldn’t have her hate him like last time.

(It had hurt, to have Kaya throw everything back in his face. He’d been so scared, terrified that he was losing a friend forever only to find her even more hurt when he was right. This could not be a repeat of old mistakes.)

It’s the day after reuniting with his tiny crew of wannabe child pirates when he puts his plan into action. He’s sitting in Kaya’s tree early in the morning, watching the sunrise over the ocean when the window opens.

Her hair is mussed and she’s still in her nightgown and her eyes are hazy and half-lidded with sleep. She’s the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen in all his grand adventures, both real and imagined.

It’s like a dream come true.

He smiles wide and gestures broad and tries not to cry as she settles in for his next wonderous tale. He will save her, stop Kuro, find his crew and make sure to write to the woman who owns his heart.

(It’s not until the next day, when a knock comes at his door and he find Kuro standing on the stoop that he realizes that his first story was thoroughly peppered with traitorous, black cats and their fast, sharp claws.)

(He always was the type to get carried away when things were going well.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nami! Oh, I'm so excited to finally post this chapter!
> 
> And a return of the Heart Pirates!
> 
> Plus more Usopp and a whole ton of cliffhangers!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want to start with saying thank you to everyone who's left kudos and/or comments. You guys are amazing! I've never had any story have this much response before, it's kinda overwhelming! My replies are probably going to be a bit more generic from this point onward, but very I'm so thankful to all of you, from the bottom of my heart!
> 
> Ok, now that I've been all sappy, here's the next chapter, hope you like it!

He’s not awake, he knows that.

Nothing around him is familiar and yet he knows it intimately. There is something there, cradling him, not unlike Bepo does when he overuses his powers and passes out. Which he’d done, right? Overused everything and shot them back into the past after watching his world burn before his eyes. But no, this isn’t Bepo or any of his crew. Instead, it almost feels like _Luffy_.

A hum starts in his chest, moving through his head and arms and out of his mouth. It surrounds, him burning through his head in a deep ache that almost feels like drowning, like sinking into the unknown knowing only death lies ahead. It’s frightfully peaceful for all that it’s mind-numbingly painful.

(He’s never been afraid of pain or death anyways, not after the terror and agony of Flevance and Amber Lead and Doflamigo’s twisted Family.)

Through the hum comes the feeling of a hand in his hair and an arm around his shoulder. The comfort of a hug that comes from nowhere and everywhere all at once and slowly chases away the hum, turning it from a bone rattling whine into barely noticeable background noise.

No words are spoken and yet he _knows_.

The Sea King will not harm them. The Sea King wants to help, needs to bring them to the one who can hear but not speak. The Sea King is taking them across the accursed land, the fake barrier, by way of the sky. The Sea King will get them there safe, see them to the beginning of their next journey. The Sea King is thankful that they will finally see to the end of the wrong that pervades the world.

The arms around his body slowly lay him back against a soft nothingness and all Law can feel is the urge to rest, the knowledge that he and his crew will be safe. That they will see the Strawhats soon. That he will see Luffy.

~*~

_She holds her Captain close and cradles her crew through the worst of the trip. She will do all she can to circulate the air, keep her crew alive until they reach the White Sea. There, they can rest while she takes them to their next adventure. She will not fail them this time._

_They will survive, even if it kills her again._

~*~

He’s sobbing in front of Hiriluk’s grave. He’s so scared. There’s a scar on his neck where the bullet had torn through him and it still hurts and now the rest of the crew is _gone_. Robin had burned up with the Polar Tang and most of Torao’s crew and Nami had fallen into the water after him, but the rest would be okay, right? They were strong and could survive anything.

The scratch of burning water scorches his throat and he’s almost convinced he’s back in the killing sea between the gasps of air he pulls in between sobs. He needs a hug from Nami or Robin or Sanji. He’ll even take Zoro, who’s always too stiff and tentative when Chopper hugs him before sinking into it with a silent sigh of relief. Or a hug from Luffy, which is almost always too much after too long, but Chopper doesn’t care because he wants to be held forever right now. Or a hug from Usopp, who always swings him around in dizzying circles like he’s the most precious thing in the world. Even Brook or Franky or Jinbe, who are too bony or metal-hard or tentative but still try and cuddle him when the days get to be too much.

When the weather is too hot or the air feels like he’s breathing it through a straw. When the everything feels ten times too big for his small stature and all he wants to do is burst into his Monster Point just to not feel so powerless in a world that wants to swallow him whole. When the world is so alien that he wishes for the millionth time that he’s never eaten that damned fruit, that the leader of his herd had just _killed_ him, that his mother had left him to _die_ before he even learned how to eat anything other than her milk.

(It’s so painful to have the body and instincts of a reindeer, but the mind and emotions and responsibilities of a human. He wouldn’t give up his friends for all the world, but somedays he wonders if it would be easier to never have known them at all.)

Winds blows and the trees shudder and Chopper hasn’t been able to move in hours. He’s not sure what happened. Not sure why he’s back. The breeze tells him that this is real, the birds and bears and trees smelling all too familiar and like a place he once called home.

And there is smoke too, the burning and blood and pain that pervaded the island after Hiriluk’s death, after Wapol invaded every aspect of life on the island.

There’s a low whine growing in his throat and he doesn’t know how to stop it. Robin would know, or Nami, both so kind in understated ways. Robin would walk with him to the infirmary, help him sort through his herbs and flowers and weeds for hours and just let him talk about everything that was spinning in his mind until it all settled back into place. Nami would show him her maps and let him scribble and color on spare paper as they sailed through calm seas.

But it was Sanji he really wanted, who really understood. He could see where Chopper held back, helped him navigate when everything was so confusing. Helped him learn what it was to be an adult like the rest of them and didn’t think it weird when he failed to reach the same level of maturity. 

In truth, Chopper didn’t know how old he was. Time before eating his devil fruit was cloudy, the passing of days and the rare change of seasons meaning nothing beyond a change in available food to the herd of reindeer. Afterwards, he hadn’t learned how to track the days and weeks and years until he met Doctorine. Hiriluk had been a wonderful friend, but he’d assumed a lot about everyone around him and he treated Chopper no different. He was the one who told Chopper that he must be at least a teenager, that he was old and mature enough to understand the medicines the man was using and the processes by which he was mixing and administering them.

When it came down to it, he never felt as old as the others on the crew. Even Luffy, with his casual disregard for the long term and tendency to believe everything right off the cuff, felt more mature and worldly than Chopper. And yes, some of that was a result of Chopper’s upbringing, isolated by his own appearance and timidity just as much as the fear of the islanders, but the rest just felt like he was misunderstanding something everyone else in the world already knew. He enjoyed candy and sweets and playing with his friends. Everything always felt new and his emotions were always sitting just underneath his skin, ready to explode out at the slightest turn and he just wasn’t sure how to control them sometimes. He felt more like the children they encountered than the adults his crew was composed of.

(And Kureha had only known him for two years, meeting him just before Hiriluk died and taking care of him until his crew found him. He’d just told her what Hiriluk told him.) 

He’s still shuddering and hugging himself when Doctorine arrives. She sighs and pulls him into her arms, thinking that the little reindeer is still mourning his beloved friend.

(She’s more right than she knows, because Chopper had seen the wounds on Zoro, watched as Sanji took a hard knock right into the snow, saw as Luffy’s energy failed him and Law took a knee before Franky and Bepo grabbed them to run while everyone else was failing and falling and _not getting back up_. And when _he_ was falling, watching the surface drift further and further away, Nami just above him yet unable to move and grab her to him and at least give her a few final moments of warmth in the chilling embrace of the killing sea. He cried and mourned for the end of their dream, the end of everything he cared for. Cried for the failure he had was in the end.)

(They would never want him again. They wouldn’t take him away from this hell.)

Kureha hugs him tight and slowly treks back home.

~*~

Over a week has passed and Sanji isn’t sleeping. He’s barely functioning, in all honesty.

The other chefs keep giving him weird looks, pity mixed with sadness mixed with something else that he can’t quite figure out, but whatever it is, it pisses him off. It’s almost like dealing with Zoro on a particularly bone-headed day and he’s just not feeling up to it. Combine that with the startled wonder on their faces the first time he lit his foot on fire while kicking a particularly aggravating Marine Captain off the restaurant and he was ready to tear his hair out. Or just put a foot through the mirror in the bathroom highlighting the massive bags under his eyes, whichever came first.

Instead, he shakes his head and finishes drying his hair before wandering back to the sleeping quarters.

He’s the last awake, yet again, and he finds himself packing more clothing into the slowly filling satchel underneath his bunk. The first night back, he’d found the old backpack he’d carried around when he and Zeff were looking for a shipwright to build the Baratie and the thing is much smaller than he remembered but he’ll manage. He didn’t take much the first time so it’s perfect for carrying the what little he wants to bring with him when he leaves with his crew.

( _If_ he left with his crew. He’s not sure if they’ll want him considering he’s a massive failure that doesn’t deserve to travel with them, let alone cook for them or take care of them. He doesn’t even deserve to _eat_ after the shit he’s put them through.)

The bag is mostly full by now and it grates. He needs something to hold onto, a task that sets his mind at ease and he’s already peeled every potato they had on board. Considering the last supply stop was the day before he’d woken up in the past, it was a _lot_ of potatoes.

So now he needs something else to do. There’s a lot of rice that could be washed for the next day, or a whole slew of vegetables to prep for basically every dish. Or he could start soaking some beans, make some red bean paste. The longer he spends on something, the more accomplished he’ll feel in the end.

(And, just maybe, it will feel like he’s earned the right to eat. Zeff is starting to give him weird looks and Sanji never wanted to see that look of sad desperation on his father’s face _ever again._ )

So, bean paste it is. Steamed buns are a wonderful appetizer and great breakfast addition so he can always get everything prepped for those after he has the beans in the water. And, if he’s grabbing a bunch of flour, he might as well make some bread. They always need bread and he can give the others a head start if he makes the dough now.

He’s elbows deep in his fourth batch of sourdough when he realizes that he needs to leave.

It’s not a startling realization or something that comes out of the blue, but he still pauses and stares at the ball of dough sitting on the counter. He’s mostly packed, only his knife and sharpening sets still in the kitchen. Hell, he’d even packed every piece of clothing he owns beside the set he’s wearing into that tiny little backpack sitting underneath his bed without even noticing that he was ready to leave. And now he’s making more work so he won’t have to.

It needs to stop, and he needs to _let go._

Another bowl oiled, dough placed and covered, first batch degassed and shaped in a series of dough baskets and he’s done. The beans need another hour before they’re ready to be worked with and whoever’s on baking duty will be up soon to prep the ovens.

His legs are stiff as he walks back to the sleeping quarters. Each step is dragging through the thick air, pushing back against each movement. Everything is eerily quiet and Sanji can feel each heartbeat pulse through his limbs.

He doesn’t want to do this.

_(He needs to do this)_

The last week has been a dream, seeing the men he’s missed dearly since he left. They may be absolute assholes, but perspective reveals so much. Sanji sees the worry and concern, but also sees the genuine happiness and celebration all of the chefs take in his work. Every accomplishment is quietly celebrated and it makes something that feels like _his crew_ ache in his chest. He hadn’t known that they cared for him like he did for them and now it feels like a slap in the face to be leaving them so soon.

(Especially since he has no idea if the rest of his family is even alive, or if they want him back.)

Last time, he left with a crew at his back and all the chefs seeing him off. Now, as he stands on the upper deck, he feels more like a thief sneaking off in the night than a beloved son.

“Eggplant.”

It comes out of nowhere, startling Sanji out of his ever-darker spiral of thoughts and he is so grateful.

Whirling around Sanji looks at his father, “Jiji.”

It comes out like a breath, like a prayer.

Zeff has that damn look again, with tears in his eyes and a small smile curling under his mustache. He says nothing, just walks forward and curls his arms around Sanji, pulling him into a tight hug, one hand snaking up to ruffle Sanji’s hair. It’s a benediction and an assurance all wrapped up in a simple motion.

Sanji is doing the right thing. Sanji is leaving with the blessing of his father. Sanji is going to be okay no matter what happens to his crew. Sanji is _loved_.

They pull apart a few minutes later, after the tears have started to fall from both their eyes.

“Sabagashira is yours,” Zeff offers, “She’s not the best for long travel, but we can manage without her until the next port.”

Sanji just shakes his head, “I don’t need her.”

Zeff gives him a searching look and Sanji is suddenly reminded that Zeff had seen the Grandline, had sailed through Paradise and made it out alive. After seeing the New World and experiencing its terrifying reality, Sanji wouldn’t be surprised if Zeff had been there too.

So, knowing what Zeff had seen, had experience through his own eyes, he knows exactly what sort of conclusions he’ll draw when he sees Sanji leave. But it can’t be helped.

He squeezes a hand around Zeff’s arm before stepping back and hopping onto the railing. He smiles, wide and radiant in the moonlight, trying to keep the melancholy flooding his veins off his face. Zeff’s smile quirks just a bit and Sanji know the man sees right through him, but he keeps smiling because some of it is the truth.

“I’ll see you again, you old Geezer,” Sanji says as he bends his knees.

“I’d better, you Bratty Eggplant.”

And Sanji is off, skipping through the sky and trailing back to the archipelago they restocked in.

(Zeff watches, stunned as Sanji flies through the air. It reminds him of something he can’t quite remember, and he feels his heart break a million times over. This kid, _his son_ , has gone through so damn much. He can’t wait for the day he sees Sanji come back to the Baratie. And he will, because that kid will achieve his dream and become the greatest chef in the world.)

~*~

Her feet carry her away from the bar before she registers what she’s doing. Fire and water lick about her legs and arms and head in a suffocating spray and she flinches at every passing breeze. She feels rubbed raw, all the way to her bones and through to her soul. Sand is crunching and shifting beneath her feet, but all she can feel is the harsh rocking of cracking metal and the harsh press of the recycled air as she runs and runs and _runs_.

Things were good. Things were finally going well and falling into place and just _good_. She’d found people she cared enough to die for, who cared enough about her that they risked life and limb and sanity to come to her rescue. They followed her lead and trusted her to have their backs and cared about _her_ in a way that no one had since Clover and Saul and the rest of her archeologist family on Ohara.

She had a family again, willing to face down the government for what they believed in and always ready to seek the truth. They looked past the lies and the stories and the easy path and found the _right_ way.

And then, blips and danger and screaming monitors signaled the end of everything as the Heart Pirate’s sub collapsed around her in an explosion of fire and seawater. She’d choked and flailed and _failed_ as most of Law’s crew screamed and cried and died around her. There was no chance, stuck in drowning rooms or burning under a spray of pressurized gas and damning sparks.

There had been no real warning before that initial volley, just the blip of something that looked like a large shark or a small whale, nothing dangerous to an experienced pirate. The mist that surrounded the surprisingly sunny winter island must have had some other property, some cloaking or dispersing effect that let the fleet come down on them in total surprise. It’s a terrifying prospect. If the government could control it, had _already_ harnessed it?

(Well, they’d seen how that goes.)

Scars, brand new and now old, burn down her side, across her arms, up her neck. Death wounds made real across her flesh, proof that it was real.

And oh, does it hurt to think of her crew fighting without her. She’s always been the ruthless one, ready and willing to kill their foes before they can hurt her people.

(She’s lost too many people to care about those who would hurt what was _hers._ )

Now, she’s collapsed in an alley near the edge of the town center when she finally looks up and recognizes the past surrounding her.

The name of the island never mattered then and it doesn’t matter now. She’d only been here for a meeting, answering a summons from Crocodile in the hopes of getting closer to fulfilling her life-long goal. She’d heard the rumors and reached out, looking for the protection his position could offer, at least temporarily. Now, on the other side of town from the dingy bar, she found herself pushing to her feet and walking away.

Franky and Brook are the closest, maybe Jinbe if he’s in Paradise instead of the New World. Her fierce cyborg crewmate and older gentlemen of a skeleton are the easiest to find at the moment.

She can sail Paradise with relative ease as long as she finds the right equipment and keeps her senses open. Combining her training with Nami, the time she spent with the Revolutionary Army, and the bit of Observation Haki she’d managed to unlock in those last weeks with Usopp’s help, she has a better sense of the sea. And as she gathers her crewmates their familiarity and experience will only be a boon.

Making it to Water 7 and into the city undetected should be a breeze as long as she keeps her face hidden. Franky already lives on the outskirts and nothing about him or his mafia family are particularly subtle.

From there, they can sail further, find Chopper and Jinbe and Brook, maybe get out of the Grandline and—

She halts in her tracks.

Nothing about her surroundings, now in the present or what was behind her in the future can tell her anything about her crew’s current mindsets. She’d died in the Polar Tang, but what if they survived? Or what if they died but she was the only one to wake up in the past? Would they know her?

And if they don’t, would she be able to join them again? They had all grown so much despite the relatively little time they’d had together. Even the two years apart was driven by the need to be strong, to face the New World with as many tools in their belts as possible. Could she even fit with them if they didn’t know her?

Could she still live if they didn’t?

She shook her head and began running for the shore. She couldn’t let herself be consumed by the unknown until she had a way off the island, a way to hide. In the end, when she met her crew, she would deal with it.

This was no different from how she’d been living her entire life anyways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chopper is my child and I swear I love him. Also, I may have a bunch of headcanons about how old he really is.....
> 
> And, the return of Sanji! Anyone want to take a guess at what Zeff is thinking? 
> 
> Finally, Robin! I was trying not to bring two characters back in the same chapter, but it just flowed this way and I didn't really want to draw it out much further. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some of you are going to be so happy at the beginning and so mad at me by the end.
> 
> Sorry!
> 
> Have fun!
> 
> See the end notes for chapter warnings!

Something pinged at the edge of his awareness. It was warm, beating a steady, excited tempo along his shoulders and down his arms and wrapping around his torso in the ghost of a hug. He leans into it, lets it pull him and lead his feet, taking away the pressure in his head and the shadows clouding his vision.

Zoro finds the docks.

Slowly, the spot of awareness coalesces into a familiar feeling and all he can do is sigh. And then jump in the water.

He can see a sinking boat? Something resembling a dinghy? In the end it doesn’t matter because his idiot rubber captain is slowly sinking into the water with closed eyes and a massive smile on his face. He looks different but then Zoro hadn’t kept too close of an eye on him during the fight and water warped his sight. It wasn’t like his captain always looked the same from day to day anyways.

It’s old habit and Zoro has Luffy in his arms and breaking the surface of the water in moments with a long, drawn in breath. Then, Luffy is propped on his shoulder, limp and flopping limbs and just as absolutely _useless_ in the water and Zoro has the urge to laugh hysterically. Something is truly different because the anchor in his arms is ridiculously light.

Luffy has never been heavy, he’s too small for that, but something about his body and personality has a certain gravitas to him that makes him feel mountains heavier. Some of that is still there, but looking at him now, with his old scar looking fresh and angry and the almost bony edges of his arms and the hair that just doesn’t stand up like it had when they reunited at Saobody, Zoro finally knows something is very, _very_ , wrong.

Back on the dock, Luffy slowly stirs. The wind is cool on their soaked skin and Zoro watches, almost in amazement, as his captain shivers. It’s not that he hasn’t seen him cold or believes that the natural world can’t affect him. But Luffy was always bigger than life and right now, this just emphasizes how small Luffy can be.

It takes a few moments, but when Luffy finally speaks it’s quiet in a way that breaks his heart, “Zoro…”

“Captain,” Zoro inclines his head, hand finding Luffy’s shoulder and _squeezing_.

Rubber arms wrap around him and tighten, stealing his breath in a delighted instant. Then they are pressed against each other and laying on the wooden dock and Zoro isn’t sure when he realized that he was scared that Luffy wouldn’t know him, that he’d travelled to the past and was stuck on an island that was throwing him off more than before because the past from before and the past from now and the future were all whirling around inside his head, but everything is okay because Luffy is _here_. He knows Zoro and the scar on his chest may look new, but it’s as old as the scar burning its way into place over his left eye and that means that his crew is back. Here. Alive. Something happened and they died but now they’re back and able to fix _everything_.

He’ll see Luffy to his crown. This time, _nothing_ will get in his way.

~*~

So, that happened.

Penguin is ready to tear his hair out and maybe even throw himself off a cliff just to see if hitting the bottom will wake him from this _nightmare_ because there is no way this is reality.

The sub had jerked, gravity shifting so suddenly to the side that everything unsecured had gone flying. He had slammed into Bepo just in time for the shelving unit in front of them to drop a metric shit-ton of towels, napkins and bed-pans, of all things, down on where they’d been sitting. Tumbling out of the closet, they’d stumbled and bumped and fallen down the hallway as they heard the rest of the crew screaming and shouting and panicking for the millionth time in the last week.

In all honesty, it’s getting a little ridiculous. They should be used to everything just going to shit by now. Law’s collapse, the Sea King , hell just the entire _Grandline_ had been just as crazy. But no, Penguin reminds himself. This is his crew, but they are young and naïve and so not ready for the crazy they are hurtling face-first into with grins so damn wide they give Mugiwara a run for his money.

(He wouldn’t trade them for the world.)

Finally pulling themselves into the hallway, he can see Clione clinging to a doorframe, trying to pull himself out of a smoking room. Uni is farther down the hall, dazed with blood running down his forehead, presumably from slamming into the same wall he’s now kneeling on. Further in, he can hear someone cursing a blue-streak, clearly alright but pissed.

Penguin’s concerned, of course he is, but in the end, he knows the crew can take care of themselves. Even before the testing ground of the Grandline, they had been scrappy. They wouldn’t have been able to avoid Doflamingo’s crew long enough to circle back around to Reverse Mountain otherwise.

No, he knows the crew may be hurting and scared, but they’ll be fine. His Captain is the greatest concern.

His memories are a jumbled mess, the old timeline and his experiences at this point in time mixing in a headache inducing mess that he really needs more time to comprehend and sort through. One thing is clear through all of the haze and confusion though. Law is in trouble and overworked to a dangerous degree.

Whatever had happened is centered around his Captain and he knows that the fatigue and stress is just going to grow worse as the days moved on. While he’s never understood how Law’s powers worked, he is smart enough to know that there are limitations. And Law had clearly passed them by at, approximately, a million miles an hour, flipping them off the entire time.

(This wasn’t like before, when Law would test his limits, pushing through the pain to reach a new level of control. No, this was more like running from Doflamingo and the first few months in the Grandline and Rockyport and all the other crazy shit they’d survived by the skin of their teeth and the luck of Law’s powers. This was a last ditch, no care for his own life action from their amazing, awesome, absolute _dumbass_ of a Captain.)

He sees the tension in Bepo’s shoulders. It’s familiar and heartbreaking all at once because the Mink has always been more laidback then the rest of the crew whenever the crazy non-logic of the Grandline kicked them in the ass. This was something more reserved for truly dire situations. A tense Bepo signaled a hard fight and the very real possibility of dying.

(He couldn’t handle losing them after just regaining them. Watching Bepo run, cradling a limp, bleeding Law as Penguin fought back to back with Shachi had been one of the worst moments of his life. He doesn’t need a repeat, not so soon. Let him deal with the fact that he _died_ and travelled _back in time_ first.)

It’s hard moving through the sub. Where before, the mouth of the Sea King had been still, the sub not moving an inch, now it feels like a new shift comes every other second, sending everyone stumbling back and forth like they’d never been on a boat before. Debris is sliding around, falling from shelves and slamming into walls. And, with the sub almost entirely on its side, getting to the other side of the ship requires climbing down the cross halls and hoping the ship didn’t shift too suddenly under their tenuous grips.

Which, of course, it did just as he’s making a jump across a gap, trying to reach the other side of the hallway so he can swing into the infirmary.

He slides down the tilted hall, arms scrabbling along the grating. Blood drips from his fingers as he manages to catch the edge of a doorway. Above, Bepo’s shouting, words lost to Penguin in the terror muffling his ears. The Mink is leaning down into the hall, arms waving frantically and eyes wide with fear as Penguin’s grip slips, blood and pain making it hard to hold on. And then Ikkaku’s peeking out of a doorway, arms slung along the frame on either side of Penguin’s faltering hands.

He’s pulled into the infirmary by a series of shaking arms, Bepo following close behind after swinging down into the hallway with the natural grace of a Mink. Hokkyo is there, arm wrapped in bandages as he pulls Penguin onto the narrow side of the cabinet beside the door. Ikkaku is also perched there, chest heaving as she settles against the wall.

The room is a mess of broken equipment and flying objects. While most of the inventory is packed away in secured cabinets, there are still plenty of scalpels, needles, and other sharp objects sliding around and turning the room into a minefield.

Penguin’s breath is stuttering, the panic and adrenaline of the last few minutes shaking him down to his core, so he thinks he can be forgiven for not automatically looking around for his Captain. His head swings up at Bepo’s cry and he tries to focus through darkening vision to find out what’s happening.

Propped against the wall on the opposite side of the room, legs straining to hold the sliding shelving unit above the prone body in his arms, is Shachi.

When they first installed the infirmary, they had put sliding cabinets along the far wall. It made sense at the time, allowing them to change the space as needed. Now, watching his best friend work frantically to keep hundreds of pounds of metal from crushing him and their Captain, Penguin wants to curse whoever came up with the idea.

( _Penguin_ came up with the idea. Of course, his stroke of brilliance that he’d gloated about for _weeks_ had come back to bite him in the ass. What the fuck was up with his life!?)

The room is still shifting around them and he’s still shaking from his fall; but then he’s jumping across the room, catching the edges of the cabinets below Shachi and Law and scrambling up. He gets a shoulder under the cabinets and pulls himself in to sit beside the two. Shachi is glaring.

“The fuck, Pen!” His voice is heaving, air wheezing past his lips as he finally has a moment to catch his breath.

“I know, now the cabinets are a stupid idea, but how—”

“Your hands are bleeding, dumbass!”

And, oh yeah. That.

There’s red smeared everywhere and it’s almost scary how little he feels it. How little he feels everything, actually. If this were the future, the Shachi who bled out in his memories would be screaming and thrashing him black and blue if he knew how far gone Penguin was. The man he missed more than anything, more than the crew, more than his _Captain_ , would have seen the detachment and dragged him back to reality kicking and screaming. He would have Penguin sitting firmly back in his own head instead of looking at the rest of the world from the clouds of disassociation with a few choice words.

(And maybe it’s the situation, maybe it’s the stress of everything, but Penguin _hates_ the Shachi in front of him for acting like he should and focusing on the true problem instead of dropping everything to help Penguin. Later, he’ll feel disgust and the fear at his thoughts, but right now all logic is out the window.)

Shachi is staring at him, eyes wide and hat lost somewhere in the shuffle and Penguin has been quiet for too long, “We’ll deal with that later. Now, pass him here.”

~*~

Ninjin is worried.

It’s been a weird few weeks. First Usopp didn’t show up for days, didn’t make his daily run through the village or play pirates with them or anything. And then, when they finally tracked him down, he was _different_.

It wasn’t a _bad_ different, not really. Usopp was strong and intense and more motivated. It was like Usopp had something real to strive towards instead of an imagined bravery. And it’s changed how they play. Instead of running around and chasing fake enemies, Usopp’s training them. They aren’t causing trouble in town. They aren’t running around the beach. They aren’t listening to Usopp’s stories as he talks to Kaya.

They’re being left _behind_.

Piiman and Tamanegi weren’t complaining, but he knows they can see it too.

And now, Usopp hasn’t shown up _again_. It’s almost noon and Ninjin is fed up.

“He’s not coming again, is he?” Tamanegi says from where he’s perched on the stump at the edge of their clearing.

Piiman is sprawled on his back, spread eagle as he stares at the passing clouds and heaves a sigh but says nothing.

“Then we go get him!” Ninjin blurts out before he can stop himself.

He’s sure they’re going to argue. He’s not the leader, even with Usopp absent. But Piiman isn’t doing anything and he can’t just _sit here_ any longer. It’s killing him to do nothing, not knowing what caused the change in their leader in the first place. He doesn’t know what happened, if they did something wrong or if someone said something that’s making Usopp leave them behind and he _hates it_.

Tamanegi jumps to his feet and gives Piiman a hand, pulling the other off the ground. They turn and look at him in absolute silence and Ninjin realizes that they’re looking to him to lead on. So he does.

They check the beach first. They know they won’t find him, but it’s the closest place to check and they won’t chance missing him somehow. Then, they check with Kaya. She hasn’t seen him and looks sad beyond Usopp missing his promised meeting. Ninjin wants to ask, but something is telling him to hurry.

He’s never been one to just _know_ things, but his father has always described a similar feeling when he knows a storm is coming. As they run, he finds himself checking the sky.

It’s clear, not a cloud in sight.

Next is the village and, predictably, no one’s seen Usopp all day. They’ve barely seen him all week.

(When they run off, Ninjin sees the Butcher share a worried look with his son. His stomach _clenches_ )

As they near Usopp’s house, Ninjin feels his gut sink. The air feels _odd_. Not in the way the village has felt odd without Usopps daily run. Not in the way Kaya’s house has felt odd without Usopp’s stories. Not in the way the beach felt odd without Usopp to lead them in fights against imaginary pirate attacks. And not in the way Usopp felt odd now.

They round the bend to his house at a run and skid to a stop. The front door is open.

Piiman is quick to turn to them, “Tama, keep watch.”

Tamanegi opens his mouth, about to argue, but then he stops, visibly pulling back and nodding in agreement. They may all be the same age, but Tamanegi has always felt like the youngest. He’s the most sensitive, the one they promised to keep safe. Whatever this is, whatever is making the air feel heavy and Ninjin’s hands shake and the world feel like is tilting sideways, they don’t want Tama seeing it.

He shares a look with Piiman and they walk to the door.

Inside is—

Inside is a horror story written in shattered furniture and torn cushions.

Piiman is turning, screaming for Tama to get the doctor and Ninjin is moving forward in a haze. Red is sprayed on the walls. The bookshelves are knocked over, books and picture frames thrown about the space. The couch is flipped on its back, stuffing bursting from long slashes in the fabric.

Glass crunches underfoot as he moves forward. The world is condensing, black circling as he passes through the chaos. There’s a whining in his ears and a sinking in his gut and a blurriness in his eyes as he reaches the ajar door on the other side of the room.

The kitchen, the heart of the home, the one room they all know well from dinners with Usopp. The room Usopp had grown up in, learning from his mother. A place they all knew was more than dear to their leader.

There is dark, sticky blood pooling past the doorframe.

A hand grabs his shoulder and Ninjin can feel the tremors of fear flooding through Piiman.

“Ni, you should wait outside,” says Piiman from a swiftly closing distance. The whining is fading and Ninjin can see that the shaking isn’t just from Piiman’s touch, “Please, you don’t need—”

“We have to,” Ninjin interrupts with a gravity rarely heard from a boy so quiet and demure that people forget he exists moments after talking to him.

Piiman is staring at him, so serious that it feels as rare as Ninjin’s forcefulness. And it’s only right in a situation this far out of their depth. They look at each other for another moment before turning to the door as one.

It pushes open to reveal even more chaos and two limp bodies.

Just beyond the swing of the door is the larger body, suit jacket soaked through with deep red. An arm is outstretched, a weird, claw-like set of blades extending from the tips of dark gloves. The edges of the blades are stained with blood and the long splashes in the front room make a terrifying amount of sense. Black hair is askew, the gel slicking the hair back drying and cracking away, letting the style slump forward and to the side. Cracked glasses sit a few inches from the face, half of the left lens missing entirely.

A kitchen knife sticks out of the chest at an angle.

Blood streaks away in a wide, macabre path leading them to the second body.

This one is propped against the cabinets, slumped mostly sideways. Blood is slowly leaking from beneath two arms, both clenched around the torso. Dense curls are pressed into the face, sweat and tears gluing the tresses to the forehead and cheeks. The chest jerks and heaves, wheezing air hissing through the mouth. The eyes are closed, muscles slowly loosening as consciousness leaves.

“Usopp!” Piiman screams and the body at the door stays limp, eyes still vacant and arm still on the tile.

Eyes across the room inch open, the blown pupils of pain and fear staring straight at them. They watch first Piiman, then Ninjin, as they break their stunned stances and race across the room to their leader.

Blood soaks into the knees of Ninjin’s pants and he finds himself numbing in between looking at the cut in Usopp’s side and how much blood is already spread across the floor. He has never handled blood well, always been extremely uncomfortable at the sight of the smallest papercut or ripped nail. This should be infinitely harder, sent him running for the village from the moment they walked in the front door, yet he’s here, surrounded by unimaginable amounts and feeling _nothing_.

Piiman takes control of the situation.

“Ni, grab a towel,” Piiman says, hands already turning red as he pushes aside Usopp’s weak hold to replace it with his own.

It takes a moment for the haze to break, but then Ninjin is jumping across the room, skidding in the blood to the cabinet behind the table. He’s back in moments, handfuls of towels clutched in his arms. He drops back to his knees and shoves half of them at Piiman. Together, they move Usopp, laying him on his side and pressing hard.

Usopp gives a low moan, eyes brightening from the cloudy catatonia they’d found him in. He blinks a few times, head shifting as he comes back to reality. Piiman is whispering assurances, trying to get Usopp to calm and lay still, not wanting to make the wounds worse. But then Usopp stills, air caught in his chest, and _moves_.

Ninjin finds himself sprawled on his back, hat knocked from his head and pressure on his neck. He’s choking and gasping and he realizes the hand around his throat is trembling, fear and anger and something unreadable making it shake. His nails scramble on skin, blackened and supernaturally hard. Barely audible pleas and whimpers escape with the last of his air and he is so _afraid._

Usopp is staring at them, eyes unfocused and face twisted into a snarl as he confronts whatever he’s seeing in their place.

Caught in the same sprawl, Piiman’s kicks and claws and starts to falter as Usopp presses harder. Desperation is blanketing Ninjin’s mind, turning everything into a blurred mess and he’s crying and writhing under hands that hold no weakness. He too kicks and claws and falters. _This is not how he wants to die._

His foot finally connects with something. It’s not a hard kick, not enough to do any damage, but it gets Usopp’s attention. The anger pauses, eyes coming back to reality with startling speed and Usopp is flying away just as the black starts to edge in on Ninjin’s consciousness.

“I…I, oh gods….” Usopp’s voice is scratchy and barely makes it past the buzzing in Ninjin’s ears, but the fear is easy to read on his face.

Piiman must hear it as well because he’s up in seconds, reaching out for Usopp with a fragile grin. It’s dampened by the hoarseness of his voice, “It’s alright, Cap, we—we’re okay. Right, Ninjin?”

“Of—of course!” Ninjin pushes himself up, sitting cross-legged and plastering on the biggest smile he can manage, “We’re okay!”

Usopp sees straight through them.

He’s pushing back further into the cabinets, as though he can sink through them and past the walls and just get as far away as possible. He’s scared in a way that seems so much more than the usual cowardice they see from their Captain. This is gut-wrenching terror and it’s all self-directed. He’s not afraid of them, but of what _he_ can do, of how _he_ hurt them.

Inching closer as Usopp stares at Ninjin, Piiman finally gets within touching distance, intent on dealing with the newly re-opened wound and the river of blood pouring from the slashes in Usopp’s side. Just before Piiman’s hand reaches the discarded towels slung across Usopp’s leg, Usopp flinches, still blackened hands coming up for a moment and Ninjin lurches forward. He’s not sure what he could do, how he could stop Usopp from moving, from hurting himself even more, but he has to try.

(A part of him think about how he also moves to stop Usopp from hurting Piiman agin. He wants to puke from the guilt.)

Usopp’s face crumples even further in disgust and he shakes his head, mouth moving in silent mutters as tears start to run down his face. It’s startling, to see tears now. Usopp’s always cried, from fear or pain or anger. The older boy has always been free with his emotions in action, if not in words. But to see tears finally come to his eyes only _after_ the pain and terror of fighting the man with the claws, of _killing_ the man with the familiar suit, of sitting in a pool of his own blood for who knows how long? Well, Ninjin doesn’t understand when or how Usopp changed so much, but he’s not going to let it stop him from helping his friend.

He continues forward, ignoring the tears and shaking and fear, in both himself and Usopp, and grabs another towel. Piiman has one already pressed against the slashes, so Ninjin uses it to wipe the tears from Usopp’s cheeks.

Finally, after what seems like hours, a familiar voice calls out from outside. Tama has finally arrived, and with him, half the village.

From there, everything is a blur of motion. Someone is pulling him away and into a fierce hug. Piiman is shouting, cursing and struggling to get back to Usopp. Tama is crying, holding onto the doorframe as the village doctor and his assistant start working on Usopp. And then he’s outside, carried out of the house by strong arms. They’re all outside looking in on the blood and destruction that’s shattered the safety of their home.

People are whispering and pacing around, everyone wanting to see what has happened, but knowing they need to stay back. And when the doctor comes out, the blacksmith’s son and a farmer following behind with Usopp on a litter, the world goes silent.

Syrup is a peaceful village. The occasional death comes from age or sickness and the Harvest Festival is the most excitement they see all year. Even the departure of Yasopp to become a pirate was of little consequence to the gentle villagers.

This level of violence hasn’t been seen in living memory and Ninjin can feel the terror in the crowd. The arms around him tighten and he wants to turn away, but he can’t. Usopp is his friend and he refuses to look away. After a few moments, the Mayor and the Innkeep exit with another litter.

The weird, dangerous claws drag along the ground. Blood drips from the edge of the soaked shirt collar, the swirled pattern on the coat entirely obscured. The knot of the tie is loose around the neck, like a hand had hooked under it and pulled.

The knife sticks out of the chest like a broken mast, tilted and shoved deep into the man’s body.

The silence finally breaks as a woman gasps, then faints.

Beloved butler of Kaya and friend to many in the village, man above repute in the eyes of most, Klahadore, is dead.

And it looks like Usopp killed him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Disassociation:  
> 1\. While not outright stated, Penguin falls into a mild dis-associative state that may be triggering to those sensitive. Take care with your mental health reading the second section of this chapter. 
> 
> 2\. Once Ninjin steps into the house, he starts to pull away from reality in an attempt to protect himself from what he's seeing. Please take care with your mental health reading the last section of this chapter. 
> 
> Graphic Depictions of Injury:  
> Penguin injures his hands in the sub, cutting and causing them to bleed during a fall. He then proceeds to ignore them, and while it is not too graphic, it is mentioned in the chapter.
> 
> Graphic Depiction of Violence:
> 
> 1.The aftermath of Kuro v. Usopp is bloody and pretty graphically described. This is in the last section of the chapter (after the Heart Pirates.)
> 
> 2\. Usopp is injured and not fully present, thus attacks and chokes Ninjin and Piiman. Neither kid is seriously hurt, but it is a terrifying experience and pretty graphic. This is in the last section of the chapter (after the Heart Pirates.)
> 
> (If you need a summary of any of the events listed above so you don't risk your own mental health, drop me a comment and I'll throw one together for you :D)
> 
> This is a fix-it I swear! I just had to break a few more things before cleaning up some of the mess.
> 
> But, hey! Zoro and Luffy are together!


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey... ya'll survive the last chapter? You okay?
> 
> This chapters a bit shorter, but much more light-hearted. 
> 
> I also want to remind everyone that this is the first story in a trilogy, so, while it's taking a while for everyone to come together, there will be more than just these 16 chapters.
> 
> (I have a bunch of smaller side stories planned as well, so those will be coming down the pipeline in the future as well!)
> 
> Anyways, on to the chapter! Hope ya'll like it!

She’s done, but it’s hard to look at her.

The Thousand Sunny is sitting in the bay, lion figurehead gleaming in the sun, looking just like she always had, but she doesn’t feel right. She may never feel right, not really. He’d tried to source the same wood, done everything as exacting as last time, but what they said was true. And it wasn’t the improvements and additions he’d brainstormed with Iceberg that were making everything strange.

It was like the old saying, it doesn’t matter how well you rebuild a ship, no two are ever the same.

(He’d thought of making anew ship, something different to signal a new era. He got halfway through the base drafts before he found himself vomiting off the edge of the docks.)

Franky sat on the edge of the dock, staring out across the ocean. It was a new habit, something he found calming in the absence of his crew. He loved his family here, don’t get him wrong. They were raucous and excitable and all-around lovable idiots, but they felt stagnant. Most of them were content to live this way for the rest of their lives.

Franky had been that way, once.

In the years after the train and Tom and _everything_ , he’d thought that scratching out an existence on the edge of Water 7 through outstanding heists and the rowdy parties would be all he needed. That not knowing how he would feed the mouths depending on him was okay as long as he had the stability of ship building and the liveliness of the island at his back. That living in a constant cycle was what he wanted.

His crew had proved him _so very wrong._

They made him want to innovate, become better every day. They challenged him like Iceberg challenged him, like Tom had. It was wonderful having to maintain a ship, making sure everything was working and dealing with little imperfections before they became the larger problems he spent so much time fixing for petty cash on Water 7.

And he was working on his body again, not caring about fitting in or looking “normal” to the other residents. Even now, sitting on the dock and watching the sunset, he felt a phantom itch in his hands, the urge to rebuild his larger body slowly pushing on his chest.

He would have to start soon, before the feeling became unbearable.

But that also led to the problem he was chewing over now. He could leave, take the Sunny and start finding people, grabbing the parts he needed to fix everything, make the future better. He knew where Brook was, mostly, and he could back track to Drum Island. And the East Blue was a breeze to navigate since standard compasses worked and they had actual maps of the sea to follow. He could make a few pit stops as well, see if he could find Karakuri Island and grab the gear there instead of recreating it. And he could find the dangerous, plant island Usopp found his seeds on. And—

Or, he could stay, and wait for the crew to find him here.

Or, he could stay and make sure the Franky Family survived the oncoming upheaval.

He sighs heavily, leaning forward and pushing a hand _(too small, too big)_ back and forth through his hair _(which he can’t just change with a push)._ Everything feels like it’s crawling under his skin, every decision offset by guilt at another lost opportunity.

When he’d first woken, he’d been fine. He had a plan of action in mind and was sprinting towards it at full speed. His crew was out there, waiting for him to meet them. Franky is the shipwright, so he rebuilt the Sunny. He put her together, remade her and added everything he could think of, from extra space in the guest dorm to a hide-away candy floss machine for Sanji and Chopper.

But then he watched his family, seen Iceberg interacting with his misfits for the first time, and realized that this was something he _missed_. By leaving, going with the Strawhats and essentially handing over leadership of the family to Iceberg and Zambai, he’d missed seeing who they were _becoming_.

Mozu and Kiwi were a riot on a good day but seeing them following Iceberg when they thought he wasn’t looking was hilarious. And the Kairiki Destroyers were more interested in shipbuilding after watching Iceberg help Franky with the large-scale shaping, seeing the aspects of the ship that they could build instead of tearing apart. Even Sodom and Gomorrah were getting into the action, trying to ferry Iceberg back to the Mayor’s mansion at the end of a long day.

This was what he’d struggled with, back when he was experiencing this year the first time. He’d stagnated, and so did they. Iceberg was injecting new life into them and he wanted to see it happen. Not hear about it in the rare letter or catch a small story in the newspaper, but actually _see_ everything happening to the people he was remembering how much he cared for.

(This is why he liked having a Captain so much. There’s way less decision making and worry as the crew’s shipwright.)

“You’ll loose that glorious mane of yours if you keep doing that Bro.”

“Huh?” Franky turns, automatically sitting back and letting go of his hair as Zambai sits down beside him.

Zambai grabs his own hair, giving it a quick tug in demonstration, “The pulling, Franky.”

(Had he been pulling? He hadn’t felt it but now that he looks, he can see dots of blood on his fingertips and feel the raw furrows through his scalp. Has it really been so long since he’s had an actual scalp that he can’t remember to be careful of the skin?)

“Oh, it’s nothing to worry about!” Franky forces out, trying for a jovial tone. He’s tensing, ready to jump up, strike a pose and make everything be okay for at least a few minutes, when Zambai’s hand catches his shoulder.

It’s a long moment, where Franky can’t breathe and Zambai’s presence stays steady at his side. Franky’s missing his sunglasses and he curses because Zambai, behind his ever-present goggles, can see everything that Franky just can’t manage to hide. He knows the other man is tracking the stress lines growing on Franky’s forehead, the uncertainty and panic in his eyes, and the overall sense of guilt sitting on his shoulders.

“You gonna finally tell me what’s up, Bro?” Zambai voice is soft and sad, not unlike Iceberg's after Franky told him about his future-past (or past-future?) and the horrible, bloody end he met.

Franky opens his mouth, ready to bullshit and lie and do everything he can to maintain that big brother, leader-of-the-family aura that’s been the only thing keeping him together for the last week, and falters.

“It’s—I don’t know how to…”

“You know it doesn’t have to make much sense for me to understand,” Zambai’s hand presses harder into Franky’s shoulder, the pressure pulling his mind back from the brink, clearing everything enough for him to think and really look at his friend.

It draws a rumbling laugh from his chest, head shaking in disbelief that this is what his life has come to, “Well, it’s crazy enough to be just up your alley, Zambai.”

Zambai smiles and pushes his goggles onto his forehead, revealing the laugh lines around his eyes and the humor in his gaze, “You know me so well.”

All of a sudden, Franky knows they will be fine. He needs to explain some of what happened, let them what he plans to do. But first…

“If I told you I was leaving, what would you say?” Franky asks, voice sobering for a moment as he stares at his little brother. What the other says probably won’t change his mind and definitely won’t change what happened, but he needs to know.

Out of everyone in the family, he values Zambai’s opinions the most.

There’s a spark of surprise, just enough to lift the man’s eyebrows, but then he grins, “Help you pack and shove your ass on a boat Bro!”

It’s a balm on his soul, the weight of the world lifting away from his shoulders, “You want me gone that much?” Franky teases, moving to stand.

“Nah, I’ll miss the hell out of you. So’ll everyone else, but you need something different. You’re _bored_ , Bro. Before that Beauty out there, you hadn’t built something new in over a year.”

Franky pauses for a moment, thinking. He hadn’t done much in those last few years. Every day only brought stress, each job a repeat of the last. Nothing was exciting until the Strawhats, with their weird logic and incredible luck.

Zambai bumps into his shoulder as they walk back down the dock toward the house, “Now, you gonna tell me or what? You’ve got me on the edge of my seat.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Franky says, waving a hand, “Let’s get everyone together. It’s a _suuuper_ tale, that’s for sure.”

~*~

“You weren’t supposed to die,” Luffy pouts, legs swinging from where he’s perched on a stool in a tiny tavern just off the dock of the island he found Zoro on.

“You weren’t supposed to die either,” Zoro retorts, slumping onto the bar and staring at his empty sake saucer. He waves a hand in the direction of the bartender.

“But you’re gonna be the best swordsman in the world. You can’t die before then,” Luffy’s legs swing faster.

“Not if you’re not Pirate King first,” Zoro glares at the bartender when he ignore him. Zoro waves harder.

“But you need to be the best swordsman, because I can’t be Pirate King without my friends being the best they can be before I become Pirate King,” Luffy’s legs are a blur.

“But you need to be Pirate King so we can travel all over the world so I can challenge more swordsmen to prove I’m the best in the world,” Zoro’s eyes are ablaze as the bartender ducks beneath the bar. He raises his hand higher, still waving.

“But _you_ —”

“ _But_ maybe both of you need to hand over all your money and those pretty swords,” says a gruff voice from behind them. The barrel of a large gun touches the back of Luffy’s neck.

Zoro hand stops and drops to the bar. Luffy’s legs swing to a stop. Zoro looks to Luffy. Luffy looks at Zoro.

The man with the gruff voice and the large gun goes flying out the swinging doors of the tavern and slams into the wall of a building across the street.

Leaning over the bar, Zoro snags a new bottle of sake and raises an eyebrow at the bartender, waiting for him to protest. The man is cowering, hands over his head as his stares, stunned, at the swordsman.

“Come on, Zoro! We need to find Usopp and Nami and Sanji and…” Luffy strolls out of the tavern, waving his hands in the air in his excitement as he walks past crouching people and hops over an upturned table.

“Oi! We’re not done, Captain!” Zoro yells as he turns, digging a hand through his pocket and dumping a handful of bills on the counter. Then, he’s racing out the door, jumping a few unconscious bodies in the process.

The tavern is silent for a long minute. The bartender shuffles sideways, peeking around the edge of the bar. Slowly, the rest of the people in the room begin to stand and right tables, dragging the unconscious bandits and ruffians out of the way or checking on injured customers. One man, propped against the wall beside the door, leans out and watches the two men stroll toward the dock.

Across the street, the bandit leader with the large gun, the strongest man on the island and terror of the residents of this small fishing village, groans pitifully and slumps to the ground.

~*~

Stealing a boat is too easy. After years of sneaking onto boats or finding people sympathetic or greedy enough to give her passage, she’s surprised that she hasn’t done this sooner. But then again, her time with the Revolutionary Army opened her eyes to a multitude of possibilities. It was nice being the hunter instead of the prey for those two years.

Of course, now that she’s had time to go through the navigator’s maps and look into the paperwork strewn about the main cabin, she feels a little bad about stealing from the people who helped her out in the future.

(But on the _other_ hand, if it was this easy to steal one of the Revolutionary Army’s boats, then they deserve the reminder that they aren’t as untouchable as they believe. The assault of Baltigo was a tragedy and something she would rather this new future doesn’t repeat.)

(It’s also hilarious that this particular ship has an all too familiar top hat sitting on top of the navigator’s cabinet and a pipe nestled under the bunk in the corner. He should know better.)

Out of port and far enough away from the island to deter followers, she pulls out a map and starts planning. There is no easy path, not with her status. Her “Demon Child” title follows her everywhere, and even with the massive change being a Strawhat and temporary Revolutionary brought, she’ll likely never forget the anxiety and tension of being alone and on the run.

If she knew everyone else had come back, knew for _certain_ that she could just waltz right back into her crewmates lives, she’d shoot for Water 7. Finding Franky and the Sunny would be her best bet. From there, they could pick up Brook and Chopper, then head to Reverse mountain and either wait for their East Blue crewmates to make their way in, or use a few Coup de Bursts to get through the Calm Belt and pick them up on the other side.

Without that knowledge, and her current lack of protection, Robin knows she has to avoid any marine presence. She can’t afford to get caught. CP9 and Spandam are still problems in Water 7 and any undue attention toward the island could accelerate the timeline. If her crew isn’t in the past, then it would be impossible for them to meet Franky or get the Sunny or have any of the adventures they needed before reaching the New World. No matter her feelings, her crew’s path was too important to destroy.

So, that leaves her at an impasse. She’ll meet them sooner rather than later, that isn’t even a question. There were things she needed to fix or change, people to save. But where to start?

Everything with Alabasta is still go happening, Crocodile is taking over and Vivi will still leave to try and save her kingdom, if she hasn’t already. The events of Little Garden aren’t too important from what she’s been told, though Usopp needs the ego boost if he isn’t from the future. His friendship with the two giants laid the seeds for his determination to be his best self in later years. Drum Island is still under Wapol’s control, she remembers seeing a small article about the change in leadership while she was in Alabasta, so Blackbeard hasn’t reached the island yet.

She pauses, closing her aching eyes and letting her head drop.

Blackbeard is one of their greatest obstacles. She’s never gotten the full story on what the man did before leaving Whitebeard’s crew, but it had to be bad for one of the commanders to be sent after him. She just doesn’t have enough information to know what to do, nor how to stop Ace from going after the man. And if Ace goes after him, Blackbeard will capture Ace. And if Ace is captured, there _will_ be War.

No matter how hard she trains. No matter how hard she plans. No matter if her entire crew comes back and does everything they can to prepare for the slaughter that was the Marineford War, there’s little chance they’ll succeed without the deaths of Whitebeard and Ace on their hands. They had been the main focus of the fighting, the main contenders on the Pirates’ side and their fall had left the world in turmoil. Even with the loss the Marines suffered that day, they still came out stronger in the end and it led to the chaos and destruction she’s seen first-hand with the Revolution.

(And, if Luffy knew what was coming and fought and failed _again_ , it would break him. There was no coming back from that, not after everything that had destroyed them over the years. He’s resilient, but even rubber has a breaking point when stretched too far.)

Glancing back over the charts, she leans back and stretches. Thinking can be exhausting, even for her. She has no specific course, nothing certain to begin her plan with. While working through different routes is a worthwhile endeavor, it will be for nothing if she can’t choose a place to start. It’s just so damn hard when every action has so many consequences that she can’t track. Every member of her crew is important in their community, someone who would be missed. She can’t just drag them out of their lives without due cause and if they don’t know who she is, it could cause even more problems. Everyone has something they need to accomplish before they become a Strawhat and she can’t force it for any of them. There are just too many connections.

Except…

Robin shoots straight up in her chair. There is one who, while still incredibly important, could be pulled from his life early even if he doesn’t know her. In fact, it might even be beneficial, as long as they swing back by on their way to the New World. And, with their luck, they definitely will even if the rest of the crew doesn’t remember anything.

It takes a moment of frantic shuffling and flipping before she finds the right chart. A few glances out the windows and some measurements and she has her course. She has her beginning.

Robin hops out of the chair with more enthusiasm than she’s had in years. Rushing to the helm, she turns the wheel and sets the sails until she’s positioned just right.

It’s time to see if her navigation skills stand up to the chaos of the Florian Triangle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See, much more light-hearted than last chapter!
> 
> Franky finally has his almost break-down moment, but he has a family to support him! I find myself loving the Franky Family the more I write them.
> 
> Luffy and Zoro are iconic and I hope I'm doing these idiots justice.
> 
> Robin has way too much time to think, but hey, at least she has a plan!
> 
> Things are still moving forward guys! We're getting there!
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What is consistent chapter length? I don’t know her.
> 
> This chapter's not too light, but not too dark either. And we get some answers....and more questions :D
> 
> Chapter warnings in the end notes!
> 
> Hope ya'll like it!

They are flying? Or something close to it, at the very least.

The sub is surrounded by a literal sea of clouds and they are sitting next to the massive Sea King that just spit them out after the most terrifying and turbulent ride of Bepo’s life.

(And Bepo has outrun multiple admirals in the future. _Multiple. Admirals._ )

What makes it even worse is the amusement emanating from the Sea King.

It is a massive beast, bright yellow and covered in spines that, while small compared to the enormous mass of the Sea King, are larger than any of the crew. Dots of brown and orange covered its sides, fading into smaller and smaller spots towards its tail. Its head was flat, the mouth spread wide in what could be called a grin, if Bepo felt like being extremely generous.

Bepo is anything but generous right now.

The Polar Tang is a little worse for wear. The trip in the Sea Kings mouth had kept her sheltered from all manner of things, but the bumpy ride up to the clouds had caused her to slam into the insides of the Sea Kings mouth. With teeth larger than the ship itself, it’s a miracle the entire sub hadn’t collapsed in on herself after the first few hits.

Instead, massive swathes of her paint have been scrapped off and the bits of white and blue paint leftover from before they covered her in their colors are showing through. And after his untimely demise in the future, Bepo is bristling at the reminder of her Marine origins.

Most of the crew is working outside, enjoying the fresh air as they work to fix their ship. Everyone is rotating shifts, the claustrophobia of the trip outweighing the unnerving presence of the Sea King. The only person who hasn’t been outside is Law. He’s still unconscious despite their best efforts and they’d instated coma protocols a few hours ago. But Law isn’t the only crew member Bepo is concerned over.

Penguin is sitting on a maintenance swing, carefully repainting their Jolly Roger on the sub’s side. His fingers are wrapped in bandages and stitches line his arms. He’d fallen hard, trying to get into the infirmary, and Bepo is sure he is covered in bruises underneath his boiler suit. Not that the stubborn asshole would let anyone look him over afterwards.

It was terrifying, seeing Penguin so distant again. As a child he’d been prone to bouts of melancholy, sinking deep into his thoughts and not responding to their calls. Then, as they’d grown and learned more about the world, Penguin had come out of his shell. His quiet periods had lessened, becoming less severe as they learned how to pull him out of them and prevent them in the first place.

(Bepo or Law had never been very good at pulling Penguin back. Shachi was the man for the job. He’d been with Penguin the longest, been dealing with the silence and depression long before they’d met. On the rare occasions the bright, sunny man found himself falling back into old habits, Shachi would pull him back with a swiftness that stunned them.)

Now, that silence is back. He’d seen the beginnings of it, back in the infirmary. But there’s something different, then and now. Before, Penguin would still, looking off toward distant shores. In the infirmary, Penguin hadn’t gone quiet, hadn’t stilled. But he’d been off. It was like he couldn’t feel the cuts on his hands or the blood running down his arms. And as he’d pulled Law and Shachi from underneath the cabinets, Bepo had seen a blankness in his eyes. It was like he could focus long enough to get through the danger, but once it was gone, so was he.

And now, Penguin is dutifully adding paint to the sub in absolute _silence_.

(He would do anything to hear the man humming under his breath or muttering to himself as he bounced form task to task. Anything.)

“Do we need Shachi?” Ikkaku asks as she walks up and leans against the railing. From here, they watch as Penguin shifts, rewetting his brush and rolling the swing to the side to reach the next section. Spots of blood as starting to dot the bandages. His fingers never falter.

Bepo would rather leave Shachi to rest. The strain of holding the cabinets tore muscles all along his legs and back and they had him resting in the infirmary. They’d only brought him outside once, the urge to see the sun and get out of the ship too much for any of them to deny him the same right. Everyone else was getting a rest from their jobs, even Ikkaku. Shachi should too.

And yet…

“Yeah,” Bepo says, voice soft and pitched low, “I’ll reel Penguin back up.”

Ikkaku nods and immediately makes for the door. Moving toward the crank, Bepo calls out a quick warning before he starts pulling Penguin up.

Shachi will make this right.

(He hopes.)

~*~

_He’s surfacing, can finally see the light piercing the waves above._

_Sounds are coming back, the beeps and clangs and breathing of the world around him. The gentle hum of engines the buzz of life that never seemed so loud when awake. Aches and pains shoot across his body, the consequences of everything in his life. And something nudging at the back of his brain. It’s light and it’s living and it’s surrounding him in a warm hug and he feels himself sink back._

_The light is fading, sounds petering out into nothing, but he’s not concerned. He’s not afraid or sad or even angry. Now isn’t the right time. He’s still too tired, his energy lower than ever. It would be painful, to be awake. Painful and heart-wrenching and terror-inducing to see what is, what was, and what could be._

_It’s not something he wants to deal with. And after the nightmare that’s been his life up to this point, he deserves a break._

_(Oh, how he needs a break.)_

_So for now, he sleeps._

_And then…_

~*~

Only working with family is a curse and a blessing, as Sanji finds out his first day on the island he doesn’t care to know the name of.

Chefs have pedigree, old men who studied and perfected their craft under the studious eyes of a master or a school. The young are only good for grunt work, and Sanji is a child in the eyes of the men around him. It doesn’t _matter_ that he’s been cooking since he was small, it doesn’t _matter_ that he can create at the same level. All of the men only see a young face and arrogant spirit and hate him for his youth.

Sanji is willing to do the prep work. He’s done it for years and will do so for many yet. But these men and their egos, looking down at those around them as though their skills make them better than their fellow man? They make his heart burn.

So, in the end, Sanji does what he does best. He cooks.

It starts with a bad night and a bar on the docks. After another day of arrogant men and angry rejection, Sanji slumps back towards the sea, looking for a place to sleep. He hasn’t eaten in days, the continual failures since he touched down on this island causing his stomach to clench in a way he knows will just cause everything to come back up.

(He can’t waste food, afterall.)

He's sitting at a table, nursing his first and only beer of the night, when a patron starts arguing with the barkeep.

“But everywhere else is closed!” the patron argues, leaning over the bar.

The barkeep leans right back, “Not my fault you can’t cook for yourself Annis!”

“Come on! You’ve got a kitchen Sweete!”

The barkeep, Sweete, slams his towel down on the bar, “And I don’t got a cook or time to make you something!”

Sanji doesn’t even try to keep his mouth shut as he slides into a seat beside the man, Annis, “I can cook.”

Both of them turn, Annis with a wide smile and bright eyes and Sweete looking like someone stepped in his dinner.

“Yes!” Annis cheers before smirking back at the barkeep, “So, food?”

Sweete ignores the man and walks over to Sanji, “I ain’t paying you to make the idiot anything.”

“You don’t have to, just let me have some of whatever meal I make and we’ll call it even?” Sanji’s stomach loosens a bit, the thought of doing something worthwhile making the anxiety in his gut ease.

“Sure, fine, just don’t burn the place down and clean up after yourself,” Sweete waves him back towards a door tucked behind the bar and goes back to taking orders.

Sanji turns to the man who started everything, “Allergies?”

“Got none and I’ll eat anything!” Annis replies as he seats himself at a table to the side of the bar.

And that settles it.

He’s quick to survey the kitchen and quicker to start rearranging to his liking. The place isn’t dirty by any means, but it’s not the organized and gleaming kitchen of the Baratie nor the compact and efficient galley from the Sunny. It takes a few minutes, but after switching a few things around and orienting himself in the space, he makes do.

The fridge and pantry are well stocked and there are a slew of dishes Sanji could make. He focuses on fast and nutritious and has a full spread in half an hour.

He walks out of the back with perfect posture, arms laden with platters.

(He may have overdone it a bit, but hey, he hasn’t cooked anything in almost a week and he was getting _twitchy_.)

Annis’s eyes go wide and he starts to drool a bit. The barkeep comes over and takes a seat, curious at what Sanji managed. Both sit back in shock as Sanji presents the food in his usual manner, talking through each dish and suggesting a preferred order to the dishes.

Both men dig in and it takes a moment to remember just how much his crew eats in comparison to normal people. Even Nami, with her petite figure and lack of devil fruit, consumes more than the average. There is more than enough food on the table to feed most of the bar and Sanji goes to collect more plates as other patrons come over, drawn by the smell.

Sanji grabs a small plate for himself and sits back to watch the men moan and smile over the food. He takes a quick bite and almost moans himself. It _has_ been a while if such simple fare tastes this good.

By the end of the night, he has a job in the kitchen and a room above the bar. By the end of the week, he also has a growing following and a full stomach.

~*~

It’s dark and everything hurts, but Usopp can’t take it anymore.

He’s leaving. _Now_.

The last few weeks have been a dream and a nightmare and he can’t look at anyone anymore. He can’t look at the villagers, with their frightened or concerned glances. Can’t look at Ninjin, Piiman, or Tamanegi, the bruises and tears too much for him to handle. And Kaya.

Kaya hasn’t been to see him. She probably can’t, in all honesty, but every time she comes up in conversation or mentioned in earshot, everyone gets quiet and looks at him with pity or shushes the person talking. Pretending to sleep has been his best bet for information, and it works best on the third day.

Kaya has been quiet, her sickness stronger then ever. She’s mourning a man who had become one of her pillars. Kuro had done his job well, and not having the betrayal thrown in her face like the first time made everything so much worse. Usopp knows, from the years he’d spent at her window, that she’s confused and hurting and that nothing he could do would help. Especially not with his wounds.

On the other hand, Merry is _angry_. Usopp isn’t sure why it hurts more for Merry to be angry at him than Kaya, but it’s devastating. No one has allowed Merry to see him, or even allowed the butler in the door. But they can’t stop the man from ranting in earshot.

“…a danger! And we never even knew!” He’d heard Merry shouting, earlier that morning. Usopp had pushed himself out of bed on shaking legs and stumbled over to the window overlooking the main street. From there, he could see the doctor and the mayor arguing with Merry.

From there, he could see the townspeople giving first the butler, then Usopp, considering looks. From there he could see Ninjin and the massive, hand shaped bruise wrapped around his neck.

(He’s always been an outsider, even before his mother died. Something about him has always been wild and free where the villagers have been content. He has the same drive as his father, the need to make his life into something more than that of a fisherman or farmer. Something like a pirate.)

And so, in the cool air of the fifth night after Kuro attacked him, Usopp escapes.

~*~

In the manor on the hill, Kaya feels that same shift in her chest. It’s just like a fortnight ago, when the world became something different with no change at all. 

She stands unassisted for the first time in days, cheeks dry of tears and eyes wide open. Pushing open the window, she can see down over the village and spots a small light roll across the waves. And she knows.

Usopp, the boy in the tree, her best and only friend. The man she doubted, if only for a moment. He’s leaving the island, leaving her like she knew he would oh so long ago.

It sits in her stomach like a block of lead and she can’t find it in herself to blame him for leaving without saying goodbye.

This change is so much worse than the before she can’t remember but feels all the same.

~*~

Paradise is big, for all that it’s just a band of water around the center of the planet. And big means easy to get lost in. And easy to get lost in means easy to be stolen away.

Jean Bart wakes up in chains, collar around his neck and no room to move his massive body. The horror of his last minutes shakes on his breath before he finds himself straining against the confines of a too familiar nightmare.

He screams.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings:  
> Implied Eating Disorder.  
> There is a bit in Sanji's section where he implies that, because he hasn't done enough, that he doesn't deserve to eat and that food is wasted on him. It's mentioned in the paragraph that starts: "It starts with a bad night and a bar on the docks. " and you can pick back up at "He's sitting at a table, nursing his first and only beer of the night,"  
> This is in the second section of the story and if you need a summary of the section, let me know and I can compile one for you.
> 
> So, the Heart Pirates are having the time of their lives.... 
> 
> Sanji is my boi and I love him, but I also love angst. You can see which one is winning out.
> 
> And what's happening with Usopp! Quick reminder that everything is from Usopp's POV!! _(┐「ε:)_
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's always some angst, but hey! Things get more toward done this chapter! That helps, right?
> 
> Hope you like it!!

It’s been a long week and Nami wants nothing more than to sleep for hours on end. Arlong had demanded more charts, more money, more _everything_ and Nami’s hands are sore beyond measure. In the end, it doesn’t feel like anything will ever be enough, and she finds herself rising earlier and earlier every day.

(And, when she’s not lying to herself and pushing everything down into that box that holds her true self, maybe she wants to find that dream again. Maybe she wants to feel like this has an end that doesn’t result in her death or the destruction of everyone she loves. More than they’ve already been destroyed, anyway.)

Instead of sleeping or drawing, Nami finds herself heading towards Bell-mere’s grave. Its been years but even the shame of her actions can’t keep her away anymore. Something is growing inside, something different that makes no sense.

That is, it makes no sense until she finds a familiar man standing at the cliff’s edge.

It shifts inside and everything from the last week, from the last months, from the last _years_ , suddenly makes too much sense and she sighs.

“Are you really going to wear that stupid thing?”

The man turns, sunshine mask and googles doing nothing to hide his long nose or curly hair, “I brought the cape too?” He says in lieu of a real answer, shoulders starting to shake with mirth.

Nami shakes her head, smile wide despite the tears on her cheeks, “As long as you have some version of my Clima-Tact…”

“Of course!” He exclaims and pulls out a familiar blue rod, “I don’t have any dials, or anything from Weatheria so it’s not that great but—”

“But,” Nami interrupts him, engulfing her friend in a tight hug, “It’s more than we had last time. And we don’t even need those idiots to take out Arlong. We’re way stronger now.”

“About that,” Usopp pulls back and digs around in his bag, “I know Luffy would be mad if we started making names for ourselves without the rest of the crew.”

Nami scowls as she sees the items Usopp extracts.

“Really?”

~*~

Nami has never fought fair. Honor and chivalry have never had a place in her heart when it comes to protecting what’s hers. She’ll do anything to get what she wants, and only those she loves are safe from the reign of destruction she can unleash when she puts her mind to it. Now, with years of experience and a wellspring of confidence, she’s more than ready to take down the ghost that still haunts her dreams.

It starts in the dead of night with a massive explosion.

In another future, Luffy’s destruction of the tower had been a fitting end to the fight and a signal that Arlong’s reign of terror was done. In this present, it’s the first death knell of an era and Nami feels it resonate in her chest.

From behind an orange, cat-shaped mask, Nami watches Usopp’s head tilt back and forth as he watches the dust settle around the collapsed tower. Behind her, shouts and cries of the townspeople grow, but she ignores it. They know some of the fishmen will survive, Arlong the chief contender among them. And when they emerge, Nami and Usopp must be ready.

She’s never unlocked her Haki but she’s lived under suspicious eyes long enough to know when she’s being watched.

Usopp’s head whips right and he gasps, “Hatchan!”

It’s startling, to remember that the friendly Fishman was once a tormentor. That the person who Luffy punched out a Celestial Dragon over was here among the pirates destroying her town. And it makes her regret, for just a moment, their harsh actions.

And then, Usopp’s head whips back around and she hears a long, drawn out _laugh_.

Arlong, head bloody and eyes wide in in hysteria, pushes through the rubble to look at his destroyed dream.

(And Nami wants to smack herself for pitying the man. She knows now, the hate and fear and terror that Fishmen live under. Has seen what the world government does to those outside their control, to those too different. But these men had killed her mother and almost destroyed her village all in the name of a centuries long conflict that both sides kept propagating. She’d worked with Jinbe and knows what the brands on the Arlong Pirates mean, but it doesn’t excuse either side the violence.)

(Not even their own.)

Nami pushes forward, hopping off the wall surrounding the destroyed tower and brandishing her Clima-Tact. She needs to end this quickly, before Arlong comes back to reality.

A few quick waves, a squeeze and a push and a quick tempo knocks the Fishman first to his knees, then to the ground.

In the end, it’s…almost too easy.

She finds herself standing above Arlong, looking down at his bruised and bloody body, and just feels pity. The Fishman is a murderer, someone who took a look at an unfair world and decided to take what he felt was owed. Nami can’t blame him for it. She would and has done the same, and she’s already got the advantage of being human.

But she can’t forgive the violence, knowing what she does about Fishman Island’s politics. Knowing that Bell-mere would still be alive if Arlong hadn’t decided to ignore everything his old Captain fought for in his search for vengeance.

(Everything is complicated and conflicting and she really wishes Jinbe or her Captain were here right now. Usopp is an amazing friend and a solid pillar when she feels like she’s crumbling, but Luffy has a steadfastness and certainty that’s hard to replicate and Jinbe has seen both sides of the conflict with world weary eyes and a wisdom that comforts her.)

(Watching Usopp tense and catching the barest hint of tears at the edge of the mask, she knows he wishes they were here too.)

She’s looping rope around the limp arms of the Fishman when he grunts and starts to wake. Panic strikes her for a moment before she cinches to rope tight. But he doesn’t thrash or try to get free. Instead, he sighs and Nami feels her heart stop for the third time in as many minutes.

“So, you’ve finally done it,” Comes out in a resigned huff. The Fishman doesn’t even move from where he’s lying face down.

And that could mean so many things, but Nami knows it goes deeper than she should know. She won’t let him get away thinking this is about the conflict between Humans and Fishmen. Anger sparks under her skin. She flings the mask from her face and hisses, “I’ve done nothing you don’t deserve. Otohime and Fisher Tiger would be ashamed.”

She won’t let his pride get in the way of finally learning something. This is about his _own_ damned actions.

Arlong flinches before turning his head, using his knees to push himself onto his side so he can look Nami in the eye. She can’t help the angry tears sitting in her eyes, but she won’t let them fall, not yet. There’s confusion sitting in his gaze and she knows what he will ask, but she will not grant him the answer.

Not now, anyways.

“Humans and Fishmen don’t have to be enemies. We never saw anything wrong with those who are different, but now most of the East is afraid of you. All…All you’ve done is…made it…worse,” and finally she breaks.

Nami has cried so many times, in happiness and sadness and anger. This time she cries in frustration. Frustration for all the hate in the world, for the looming presence of a government that deals in violence and hate behind a shining façade to keep its power. For the friendships and possibilities lost in her destroyed future.

Arlong just watches her as she cries and cries and cries.

(Around her, Usopp rallies the villagers into clearing the rubble. He keeps them working and stops their anger, doesn’t let them hurt the Fishmen they pull from the destruction, no matter how much they want revenge. Every time one of the villagers gets too rough, pulls a knot too tight or drops a body harshly, Usopp points to his crewmate, makes them watch as she cries for both sides of the conflict.)

(By the time Nami’s tears have dried, no one wants to hurt the pirates who hurt them first. Cycles need to be broken, after all.)

~*~

They set out again at midday, in a twisted mirror of the first time she left for good. Nojiko and Genzo and the rest of the village see them off in their little boat. Nami’s tattoo is fixed and Usopp is already pulling apart her Clima-Tact so they can discuss adjustments and the sky is clear.

This time, Nami let’s them say their goodbyes, and she leaves most of their wallets. She still takes Genzo’s as a matter of principle but she knows he’s just going to laugh once he stops yelling.

There’s still a feast and celebration, but they don’t stick around. They can’t be caught and Nezumi will know of the destruction soon enough.

(She’s not sure she wouldn’t just kill him and any other Marine she could find if she had to confront him. It’s better that they leave early, for everyone.)

With everything they’ve seen, Nami’s sure even Zoro could navigate in this weather, so she relaxes back in the small boat Usopp brought and they set off.

As sure as the sky is blue and the sea is strong, they know they’ll find their Captain where there’s the most trouble. And Loguetown is always brimming with it.

~*~

Everything is wrong. Shachi knows what day it is, knows what’s been happening in the last weeks, but this isn’t what’s supposed to happen.

They _should_ be on the run from Doflamingo’s forces in the North. They _should_ be watching their Captain pace and mutter to himself and grow ever so silent as they frantically dodge from island to island. They _should_ be slowly starving as their supplies run low and their stamina runs lower. _They should_ be quietly dying in increments until Law leads them in one last push that gets them into the Grandline with all the drama and flair that their crew has left in them.

Instead, he’s stuck in the infirmary trying to reconcile the past with the present with the future that may or may not be a crazy dream as his best friend slowly disintegrates before his eyes. And if this was then, he’d know what to say. But now all that history is lost or fake and he can’t get his head on straight enough to help his own brain let alone anyone else’s.

(He’s supposed to be the therapist here, damnit! This is one of the few things he’s good at.)

(And yes, he knows exactly how bad that line of thinking is. “Do as I say and not as I do” and all that bullshit.)

Things are so different and now he’s trying to remember what he was like before the Grandline. Before the fight through Paradise or the crazy shit at Vira or the decimation of Zou. Fuck, even Wano was life changing and all he did was watch Penguin’s back and fight off the creepy smiling hoards.

(The voice in the back of his head that sounds an awful lot like his mother is ignored and shoved forcefully away. He does not have time for old demons.)

So here he is, stuck in a bed in the infirmary with busted legs and a busted head and scars he shouldn’t have from a future he might have lived. Dread is building in his chest and he doesn’t know what to do with it all so he just ignores it. When he has more time, can pause long enough to reconcile everything, then maybe he’ll be of _use_ again.

~*~

Sailing alone is hard. Franky has always had a crew, someone else to talk to or bounce ideas off of or just someone to share silence with. And while he’s able to handle Sunny by himself with ease, the loneliness is already getting to him.

It’s not even been a week and he’s already talking to himself. He can’t even pass it off as talking to the ship since that got old the day before. It’s all he can do not to pick up the Den-Den Iceberg had pressed into his hands before he left and call back to see how everyone’s doing. He might turn around and abandon his quest if only for the _company_.

(And even if he did, they’d just hang up. All of them had made him promise to have an adventure before he called, and six days alone on a relatively calm sea does not an adventure make.)

Humming to himself, Franky checks the navigation panel again. While Nami always kept the Log Pose on her because she could instinctively sense the changes in the air, this time Franky had installed every navigation device possible into various surfaces on the ship. There’s even a small station set up in the dining room, just in case.

As he watches, the dial indicating air pressure starts rapidly spiraling downwards and he sighs. For the fifth time in as many days, a rainstorm hits just past noon. Weird weather is nothing new in the Grandline, but the predictability is making him nervous. It would be just like the sea to lull him into a false sense of security just in time to—

Lightening cracks, snow starts blowing, and a waterspout descends directly in front of the ship.

Of course.

Franky turns the wheel hard, and the Sunny goes spinning to the side. Her sails fill and she rockets forward. Snow slams against Franky’s back, filling the deck as the sky darkens further. The waterspout turns, as if following and Franky’s hand hovers above the controls for a Coup de Burst. But the wind and the lack of sight beyond the bow of the ship as the snow falls heavier and faster make it an insanely reckless move.

(And yes, he knows that “Insanely Reckless” may as well be his middle name, but he’s not about to risk the Sunny when he hasn’t even found any of his crew.)

For a minute that feels like an hour, everything closes in on the Sunny. The waterspout grazes the stern and lightening slams into the sea just before the bow and snow is buffeting the ship from starboard, as though trying to tip her and then it all stops.

Gone is the waterspout and the snow and the crashing thunder. All that’s left is a gentle breeze and piles of frost on the deck.

Franky carefully pries his hands from the helm and sweeps the accumulated snow off the navigation panel. Everything is back to normal, the air pressure is slowly creeping back up and the Log Pose shows he’s only slightly off course.

It also helps that a familiar bank of fog is about to swallow the bow of the ship.

“Good girl,” Franky smiles and pats the helm as he settles back and pushes into the fog. He has his senses spread, the barest hint of Observation Haki tickling at the back of his neck as he pushes forward.

They descend into the Florian Triangle.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ya'll thought it really was going to be Robin, didn't you? Instead I sent the Strawhat with, arguably, the least common sense in there. 
> 
> Also, HikaruWinter commented waaay back on the first chapter about the Heart Pirates needing a therapist and I SWEAR I already had this written. (I also may have laughed myself silly at just how accurate that is.)
> 
> And we got more with Nam! And Usopp!


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less sections, but they're also longer this time!
> 
> Hope ya'll enjoy!! :D

Finding Brook is made easier by the supernatural quiet of the triangle.

A low, haunting melody dances over the ship from the Port side and Franky is at the railing by the time the decrepit ship appears in the fog. He can see the swaying afro and flashing fingerbones of the musician as the man moves about the deck of the ship.

“Aaahwo! Brook!!” Franky calls out, arms pressed together, legs splayed and head thrown back in his signature pose.

There’s no reaction. Instead, the ship slowly starts to drift away.

“Brook!” Franky yells again, voice tinged with a note of concern. Still, the skeleton doesn’t react.

“Ooookay? This is spooky…”

Fog is starting to obscure the other ship. Franky knows he has no time to loose, so he drops his pose, grabs the closest length of rope, and knots it around the railing. It won’t hold long term, but hopefully once he has Brook’s attention, they’ll be able to get back to the Sunny before it snaps. He’s up and over the railing in moments, the augments in his legs making the leap to the other ship easy.

It takes another moment to secure the rope to the mast of the other ship, the only place Franky is _somewhat_ sure won’t break off in the current. Then he’s turning, looking for his friend. The deck is silent and abandoned. All that’s left are the skeletons of the old crew.

Again, he calls out, “Brook?”

His voice is barely above a whisper. There is something about the boat that feels more alive than he thought possible. Surrounded by the dead, it feels like they’re staring at him, judging him before allowing him to see their errant crew member.

(For a second, Franky feels the urge to apologize to them, to let them know that he plans to take care of Brook to the best of his ability.)

(Past failures aside.)

Still, there is nothing but the soft crash of the sea against the sides of the ship and the careful creak of wood as the two ships move together in the current. Even Brook’s distant playing has stopped.

“Yohohoho!” sounds out _right behind him._

Franky shrieks like the tiny child he is at heart.

Spinning, he finds the ever-grinning face of his crewmate, “Brook…Bro…what was that?” Franky is breathless, adrenaline pounding through his ears and sending tremors through his limbs.

(He also may have peed himself. Just a little.)

“Why hello Franky!” Brook says, voice full volume, unbothered by the dead crew spread across the deck.

Despite the terror thrumming in the back of his mind, Franky melts with relief at the skeleton’s words and sweeps him into a hug.

“You came back too, Bro! _Ssuuuuuper!!_ ” He spins them in a circle, tears pouring down his face, “I knew I wasn’t the only one! And now I’ve found you Bone-Bro! Oh, do you still have your shadow?”

“Of course I have my shadow, though it’s not much of one, only the bones! Yohoho!” And Franky can see the barest spread of one under Brook’s feet, the fog making anything starker impossible.

“Then come on Bro! We need to start looking for the rest of the crew!” Franky starts toward the Sunny, eager to be off the terrifying ship.

Brook doesn’t follow.

Instead, the skeleton is staring across the deck, looking over the bones and debris. The tone dial from before, the one that contains the recording of the Rumbar Pirate’s final performance, is clutched in his hand.

And then it hits Franky.

This was Brook’s old crew, men he’d sailed with for _years_ before their deaths. Men he’d grown with and fought with and sang with in a whirlwind adventure. Men he’d died with as the world turned against them. Last time, Brook had a mission, something to go after that had him leaving the ship. Now, without that drive he was just playing for a dead crew and hoping his living one was searching for him.

“Let’s give them a proper send off,” Franky suggests as he walks over and lays a hand on the skeleton’s shoulder, voice pitched as soft as he can. This isn’t a time for exuberance.

“Ah, yes. Well, they always liked to go out with a bang! Yohoho!” Brooks shoulder’s shake under Franky’s grip.

(It’s always amazed Franky how a man who is literally a skeleton could cry without tear-ducts.)

“Is there anything else you want?” Franky asks as they turn to the Sunny.

“Nope! Got nothing but my violin and my bones! Yohoho!” Brook’s head shakes back and forth, grin wider than usual in the darkening fog.

They hop back to the Sunny, Franky keeping a careful eye on his crewmate. He refuses to lose the man to the deadly waters around them, even if Brook can run on the water when moving fast enough. It takes a few seconds to separate the boats, the current already pulling them away from each other.

“Franky, if you would?” Brook asks quietly, violin already in place at his shoulder and bow held aloft.

Franky nods and, as the fog slowly starts to roll in between the ships, he readies the cannons, “What was her name?”

Brook looks startled, his empty eye sockets seeming larger than normal and non-existent brows raising on a face that can’t emote, “The Fermata.”

The Sunny turns, her main cannons loaded with heated shot. Brook takes a deep breath. Franky fires.

They stand and watch as The Fermata alights, flames crawling up her sides and consuming the deck. Sparks of green, ethereal light jump from the ship as they move farther and farther away. And Brook plays Bink’s Sake one last time for his crew. It’s slow and soft and so unlike every version Franky’s heard that it takes him a bit to recognize the tune.

This isn’t a time for celebration, but recognition. Last time, they had given the ship to the Rolling Pirates, and while it had felt good to repurpose the boat, it had felt unfinished. The Fermata was a member of the Rumbar Pirates just as much as Brook or Laboon. Passing her off hadn’t been wrong, and they’d done it with Brook’s permission, but looking at her now, as she started to sink beneath the waves, she feels tired and grateful to finally be done. She has served her crew to the best of her abilities and it’s time for her to rest.

(And he could help the Rolling Pirates with their own ship when they swing by Thriller Bark. If they have even half the crew members from last time, they’ll need a bigger ship anyways.)

Tears pour down their faces.

Slowly, the fire fades into the fog. They stand, staring for long minutes as Brook finishes and slowly lowers the violin.

“Yohoho...Yohoho-ho….”

~*~

It seriously has to be the ship’s fault this time.

Robin has _always_ had the luck of a Strawhat, even before joining the crew, there was no way she would have survived if she didn’t, but this was just _ridiculous_.

As the sun rose, Robin had rechecked her course and adjusted for the slight drift. Then, she’d made herself breakfast, found an interesting romance novel tucked away in the back of one of the cupboards and made her way back outside to enjoy the early morning air as she ate.

Just in time to see an approaching slave ship.

Oh, the ship wasn’t displaying their true purpose, wasn’t plastered with anything that made it too obvious, but she’d spent time with the Revolution. She knew which companies were fronts and had even helped destroy a few of their headquarters throughout Paradise. Admittedly, it was one of her favorite jobs while working with them. It slaked her bloodlust while allowing her to make a distinct difference in the world.

There was no way she could let this ship pass.

It took moments to adjust her course and make the ship look more decrepit than it actually was. A few adjustments to her clothes and a quick hand through her hair and she was _perfect_. Time to put on her Damsel-in-Distress ruse. It had always served her well.

“Hello! Please, Help!” Robin called out, hands waving frantically as the ship closed in. She could see more movement on the deck as the crew noticed her. It took another few minutes before they turned, letting her boat run up alongside.

“You okay, Miss?” a man called down, already lowering a rope ladder.

“Oh thank the gods. I ran out of food two days ago and I broke my Log Pose a week ago and I just—” She climbed quickly, letting her mouth run while she sent eyes and ears through the ship. She was quick to find the hold and quicker to find the slaves.

The first man and another crew member helped her over the rail as she reached to deck, “It’ll be okay Miss, we can take you anywhere.”

Aww, weren’t they just the nicest slavers? He almost sounded earnest, but Robin could hear the underlying sarcastic tone. This would be a cake walk.

Robin let her grateful expression fall into a confident smirk, “No, I don’t think you will.”

A third man, obviously the captain from the way the rest of the crew was parting for him as he walked forward, raised an eyebrow and paused, “Excuse me?”

And Robin struck.

Most of the Strawhats were merciful. Luffy tried not to take a life, more than willing to deal with the consequences of a living enemy than the guilt of a dead one. Usopp and Nami and Chopper were so damn innocent that she couldn’t imagine any of them consciously killing anyone. Sanji’s past always haunted him and she could see it reflected back at her every time he had to go that far. And Brook and Franky, while willing to end an enemy, would do everything else before moving to that step.

Zoro, demon that he is, has a kill count just as bad as hers. Someone has to and who better than the first mate and the unassuming archeologist. They could take the bad better than their crewmates and she knows Zoro is just as willing as her to do what needs to be done no matter what. She would bathe in blood and destroy her soul to protect the ones who protect her.

(And drown in it if need be. It was what she deserved, after all.)

The men on the deck are dead in seconds, necks snapped and faces twisted in horror. She focuses, lifting her arms across her chest. Another few seconds and she’s killed every person on the ship not in a cell or slave collar.

And, oh, wasn’t that interesting. Sitting in one of the cells is a _very_ familiar figure. Robin hurries down the stairs, hands already snagging the keys from the wall and tossing them to her as she passes. He’s in the room at the end of the hall and she bypasses the screaming and crying voices, focused on the last room.

Maybe he can’t answer her questions. It would make more sense if they don’t make sense but she oh so badly needs them to. If he knows her, it will hurt even more to see him go through this, but if he doesn’t…

She isn’t sure if she will survive long enough to see if anyone else has come back.

Robin’s hands shake and she growls, frustrated. Her hands _never_ shake. She has lived through hell and back with a calm, confident smirk and a steady, cool demeanor. This is _no._ _different_.

(But it is, because this could mean that she is alone and will be for the rest of her life. That nothing she’s done will ever mean anything because the people she’s grown with, and grown to love, won’t know her. Will be behind her in a way she can’t reconcile. Will leave her behind to wallow in the Maybe.)

Finally, _finally_ , the key finds the right key and she wrenches the door open. Inside, the figure spins, massive shoulders brushing against the walls and collar beeping around his neck. Before she can speak, the figure bursts into tears and—

“Robin!” Jean Bart calls out, voice hoarse and thick with sobs.

~*~

After releasing the rest of the slaves and destroying their restraints, Robin sets to work removing the bodies. Most of the former slaves are too weak to do much beyond leave their cells and find a place to settle on the deck, but a few of the younger men help dump their former captors into the sea. They will serve as wonderful meals for the surround sea life.

Jean Bart is coordinating the weakest survivors, his work with the Heart Pirates leaving him with enough medical knowledge to at least keep the most damaged alive long enough to find an island with a proper doctor.

Day turns to night and Robin is quick to set-up a party. What type of Strawhat would she be if she didn’t celebrate something as important as this? From the bright smile on Jean’s face, she knows he approves.

Cheers spread across the ship as they open casks of booze and pull everything out of the kitchen, everyone out on deck, dancing and singing and celebrating their newfound freedom. Even the few confined to cots in the small medical room have been carried out so they can share in the revelry.

As the party gets into full swing, Robin slips away, looking for a quiet spot to rest. It’s been a long day and her strength, while better than the original timeline, isn’t quite up to par with her future body. Training is first on her list after she finds the rest of her crew.

And isn’t it just wonderful, that she will have _her_ crew. While there is still a chance that it’s just the people who died in the sub, something tells her that it extends to the rest of the crew members on the island as well. Yes, that means they died too, and probably in horrible ways if her own death is anything to judge by, but now they have a chance to fix _so many things_. Hell, just her work with the Revolutionary Army in the future gives her enough knowledge to save hundreds of lives. They just have to get the information to the right people and let them do the work.

Her eyes widen as the possibilities open up before her. She knows contacts all over Paradise and just needs to gain their trust. Or not gain their trust and just leave information anonymously? It could be hilarious and hopefully make them paranoid enough to avoid some of the more disastrous events from the future.

(Again, Baltigo flashes in her mind. She pushes it away.)

Luffy’s brothers can reunite, Sabo regaining his memories not after the death of his brother but by meeting him in person. And maybe gain the Whitebeards as allies. Maybe even stop Teach in his tracks.

And what about Whitebeard? The man is old, but not nearly old enough for age to be slowing him down so much. And with all of the medical equipment, it isn’t hard to believe that the man is sick. Maybe Torao could help him?

Her mind whirls, ideas and plans and plots coming together in her head as she watches the party below her.

“You’re looking devious,” Jean comments as he sits beside her, holding out a tankard. It looks comically tiny in his massive hands.

She smiles at him, amused, “Thank you.”

The tankard is filled with fruit juice, not the ale or rum she’s expecting. Her face must give away her confusion because Jean throws his head back and laughs deeply, the sound rumbling in his chest.

“Some of us need to be sober in the morning,” He winks at her conspiratorially and takes a sip from his own tankard. Now that she knows to look for it, she can smell the same sweet juice on his breath.

They sit in silence for a few more minutes before Jean settles back with a serious expression, “I wasn’t kidding about the look.”

Robin sighs lightly, setting her tankard on the deck beside her and staring out over the party, “I worked with the Revolutionary Army for a few years, back when we disappeared after Sabaody and Marineford.”

Jean makes a surprised noise.

“I know,” She gives him a small smile, “I’m not exactly known for being a secretive figure, but they helped me and I wanted to help them. And I have a wonderful memory for events.”

“You know what will happen, thus…” Jean’s eyes light up and he smiles, almost giddy with excitement.

“Exactly. There are so many people we can save, things we can stop early or from happening at all.”

Setting down his tankard, Jean turns and makes a fist, pushing it gently in her direction, “Boo-yah.”

She taps back with her own fist, “Boo-yah,” she agrees.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's this? No Cliffhanger? 
> 
> We're starting to bring everyone together, thus less lines to follow!
> 
> As I did with Robin, I’ve also changed up Brook’s storyline a bit. Basically, he still has his shadow because I didn’t want to leave him in the Florian triangle for this entire story. Hope ya’ll don’t mind too much!
> 
> I love cold-blooded Robin and will defend her with my very soul. 
> 
> (Also, That almost shippiness of Robin and Jean Bart? Dude I did not know that this could be a thing but it is and I may just love them together? Are they an established pairing?)
> 
> Also, apparently One Piece Characters say 'boo-yah' now...
> 
> Thanks for reading!!


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope ya'll like it!

He’s clutching his stupid Captain to his chest when he first sees the ship.

Once again, Luffy’s special brand of luck has thrown them from the comfort of the fishing boat they’d liberated at the last island and slung them face first into adventure. Zoro really should be used to is by now, but without any back-up, he wants to _scream_.

(Had it really been this hard the first go-round?)

There’s crew scurrying around the deck as the ship turns in their direction and he catches a glimpse of suspiciously familiar pink hair. He really, really hopes this isn’t who he thinks it is, not when he’s down two swords and more tired than he should be.

The ship comes closer and, yep, it’s that crazy strong Marine guy. Kody? Kolby? He’s smaller than Zoro remembers, but then again, so is Luffy.

“Oi!” he waves an arm, leaning back and almost going under in his attempt to keep his Captain afloat. A rope’s thrown down and he’s up it in moments, Luffy slung over his shoulder.

There are swords pointed at his chest. And the pink haired _future_ Marine hero is cowering behind a stack of crates. How he forgot the kid was a total wimp when he met him was a mystery.

“Seriously?” His eye is twitching like he’s talking to the damn cook, “You _just_ pulled us out of the middle of the ocean.”

“And anything you have on you is payment for saving your life, along with your life-long servitude,” A large woman with a ridiculous club says as she saunters over.

Zoro really wants to just destroy the ship and be done with it. They only need a small dinghy or lifeboat. But that would risk the pink-haired kid.

In those first days, after Luffy had finally unwrapped himself from Zoro, he’d seen a burning in Luffy’s eyes unlike any before. It was hate and fury and vengeance towards the World Government all wrapped up in an icy edge that Zoro never thought his Captain could feel. He’d seen Luffy mad before, (hell, he’d seen him raging and willing to kill when it came to threats against his crew) but pure, cold hatred was so out of place that, initially, Zoro wasn’t even sure this man was really his captain. Sure, he was made of rubber and had the hat and could smile like nothing could go wrong, but this was something entirely out of character.

But then, he hadn’t been at Marineford, hadn’t seen Luffy immediately after Ace’s death. Instead, he’d talked with Rayleigh, two years too late. And even with the blurring of time, Rayleigh had painted a haunting picture.

(His Captain, bleeding and burnt and barely alive. His Captain, tearing at his hair and screaming at the world. _Luffy_ , collapsing inwards as his world fell apart around him, smothering under the weight of his nightmares turned reality.)

So maybe, he’d decided in the end, Luffy had always been that angry underneath the smiles and excitement (it would explain even more about how sudden the shift was when they first encountered Celestial Dragons on Sabaody), but he never let it change him for long. And it hadn’t, in all honesty. After the first few days Luffy was back to normal. Or as normal as his Captain ever got.

(And if Luffy was quieter than usual, woke with a jolt and a dark look on particularly bad nights, well, Zoro would stand by his Captain to the very end.)

Now, even with the new anger in his captain and the vengeance they would reap on the World Government, Koby (that’s his name!) was important to Luffy. Hell, even Zoro had a soft spot for the wimp. When push came to shove, the kid showed his true colors and fought with his head as much as his heart. If the Marines had to stick around, he wanted people like Koby at the Top.

Thus why these idiots would keep their heads and most of their ship intact for the foreseeable future. Or, at least until he could grab the wimp and toss all three of them in a boat. From there, he could have the kid sail them to Loguetown and they could find the rest of the crew.

He had no doubt that the others are back as well. Loguetown seems like a logical meeting point given that it is the last stop before Reverse Mountain. Luffy’s Haki _could_ get them through the Calm Belt, but without Nami to keep them on track in Paradise, they would be dead in the first hour.

Around him, the pirates shift, nervous. Ah, he’s been quiet too long.

“No thanks. You have a boat we could have?” Better to be upfront about everything. Less surprise means a better fight every time.

The large lady (the captain?) laughs and her men attack.

Tossing Luffy to Koby with a quick, “Catch!” Zoro squares off against the oncoming hoard. He’s been desperately craving a _real_ fight for weeks and he needs to see how much of his old skill came back with him. It would suck to have the scars but not the power to back them up.

And…

 _Alright then_ ….

Zoro now knows that some of his skills have come along for the ride. He can still infuse his Haki in his blades and his body moves faster than he remembers. Unfortunately, even a _tiny_ percent of that skill was more than enough to decimate the men. And the large woman. And most of the deck.

Luffy pops up from where he’s sprawled across Koby, “Shishishishi, Zoro, you were supposed to save some for me!”

He sounds more amused than mad. Zoro just shoots him a flat look, “You took out most of those bandits back in that bar.”

“So? I wanted to fight Ahirua again!”

From the groaning pile of bodies slowly sliding across the deck comes a weak, “It’s Alvira.”

Which leads to their next problem.

Luffy is jumping up and down on the other side of the deck, squeezing Koby in a hug that has the kid turning blue. He can feel the confusion in the kid from here but it’s not something he can deal with at the moment. Instead his gaze is fixed on the slowly growing rift in the center of the deck. Where are the lifeboats on this thing?

He can see shapes, outlined like they’re old or new or not present walking along the deck. There, one of them is looking over the edge, pulling at some ropes and tying something off. That must be—

An arm wraps around his midsection and pulls.

“Boats are over here Zoro!”

He’s flung into a lifeboat, the wood harsh against his back as he slams into the side. He cracks his head and the world spins for a moment before a glowing hand is catching his vision and redirecting it to the side.

Koby is staring in horror from his place in the bow of the small boat as Luffy full on _cackles_ before untying the rope and dropping them into the sea. Poor kid.

They stop with a splash and Luffy, using what few skills in navigation he has, directs the boat away from the sinking ship. They watch, silent, as it goes under. And the silence stays for a long time as the debris fades into the distance.

“Holy shit,” falls out of Koby’s mouth before the boy tenses and pushes back into the small alcove he’s sitting in.

“Yeah, that’s Zoro for you!” Luffy says with a smile. There’s an edge in his Captain’s gaze that is something more than pride. It makes Zoro’s heart swell.

“Eh, they were small-fry.”

“B—But,” Koby is shaking.

Is he scared? Of them?

Luffy keeps on talking, excited at seeing, what is to him, an old friend. His Captain is a storm on a good day and this just has the man practically vibrating with emotion. An arm flings and a leg kicks and he stretches his neck a little too far and Koby flinches. _Hard_.

Zoro has only met the boy in person a few times. Once, when the shaking wimp had saved him and twice when the man had come to help with the yearly check-in on the Warlords. Zoro had hidden each time, but the Marine’s haki had zeroed in on him and they’d spent the short visits catching up instead of fighting. They’d settled on a truce while the Strawhats were training, not that Zoro had thought the man would pursue them with any vigor when they set out for the New World.

In those days, few as they were, the two talked a lot. Koby had caught his old captain and found peace with what the woman did to him. Both had lived tragic lives, seen the worst the world could offer and had done to them in equal measure. And at the time, with the traumas of childhood far in the past and the power of the present firmly in their grasps, they’d managed to laugh at what made them the men they’d become.

But this was a Koby fresh off that trauma and smaller than Zoro has ever thought possible.

“Kid,” he interrupts Luffy’s current rant on the wonders of crocodile meat, “You’ll be okay. We aren’t gonna hurt you. Is there somewhere you want to go? Home, maybe?”

And another thing they’d talked about. Zoro had wandered away one night when he was almost too young to remember having parents. Someone had been yelling for him at the edge of the forest, their voice panicked and scared in a way that had him running as fast as his legs could carry him. He can’t remember what he found, or if there had actually been a person or just one of the ghosts that seemed more real than the world somedays, but he’d found _something._ And the next thing he could remember was the sway of a boat and the approach of the island he first trained on.

Koby, on the other hand, knew his parents. His mother worked at a bar and his father was the bar’s owner and her pimp. The woman had always been nice, if distant, and his father used him as free labor from the moment he could walk. Koby just jumping into the first fishing boat he found had a good reason behind it after all.

“I have no home.”

Luffy, finally catching the mood, sits down and asks, “Then what’s your dream?”

Zoro is surprised at how soft and hesitant Luffy sounds. They’re years in the past and they have a huge advantage against the future. He knows Koby, so why the uncertainty?

Koby is quiet for a long moment, “I…don’t know?”

That’s…not right. Did a year really make that much of a difference?

Koby keeps talking, “I wanted to be a fisherman, but I got on the wrong boat and ended up on Lady Alvira’s ship. Now I’m a pirate and…”

“Do you want to be a pirate?” Luffy asks. His eyes are downcast, hat shadowing his face. He already knows the answer. They both do. And Zoro can see how much it breaks Luffy’s heart to ask with the knowledge sitting in his throat.

“No!” Koby shoots up, standing with his fist clenched, “Pirates are the worst! They just take and take and take! All they do is make everything worse!”

Luffy is struggling, clear as day to his first mate, the clench of fists and the tightening of his shoulders sure signs. And when he doesn’t go to cut off Koby’s rant, Zoro does instead.

“If not a pirate, what then?”

Koby deflates immediately, voice despondent, “I don’t _know_.”

They sit in silence for another long moment. Zoro knows he could bring up the Marines, push Koby to be the man he was in the future, but it feels wrong. He didn’t start out wanting to be a pirate. Hell, he didn’t start out wanting to be a _bounty hunter_ , but life led where it led. He had a path and he would follow it until another was presented to him. But after everything, after the torment and fear and terror the Marines, and through them the World Government, had dumped on his family, it felt _wrong_.

Of course, then Luffy takes the indecision and anger right out of his hands. He forcefully relaxes his shoulders and unclenches his fists before looking up and giving Koby a massive grin as he says, “Then be a Marine.”

“A-A Marine?” Koby is back to looking small and Zoro’s chest _aches_.

“Yeah!” Luffy jumps up again and slings an arm around Koby’s shoulders, forcing the boy to uncurl, “Take down bad pirates and make the world free for regular people!”

He can see the fear and lack of confidence in Koby’s face, and before the boy can protest, Zoro jumps in, “Yeah, they need all the help they can get and who better than someone who survived being taken by pirates? I bet you have more insight into how pirates go about their business than most Marines.”

“Really?” Oh, the hope in the kid’s eyes is so bright it’s painful. Then, “Are you guys Marines?”

Zoro wants to thank whatever decided to have Koby looking at him, thus away from Luffy, because his Captain puffs up in anger for just a moment and Zoro knows an outburst could destroy what little confidence they’ve built in Koby. So, despite the rage sitting heavy in his gut and the sour taste in his mouth, he forces out a loud laugh.

“Nah, kid. We’re pirates!”

Koby’s shocked look stops Luffy’s vengeance in its tracks and he starts laughing along, “Silly Zoro, we’re _good_ pirates. Not _bad_ ones like Alley-oop.”

“It’s Lady Alvi—” Koby starts, the shock fading, “But wait! That’s— I don’t!” and the kid sinks down to sit on the tiny deck and clutches at his head.

Maybe they pushed too soon? Eh, the kid can take it if his future self has anything to say about it.

“And like we said, we’re not gonna hurt you, kid. We’ll even drop you off at a Marine base if you’ll help us get to Loguetown first.”

The kid’s still clutching his head and trying to come to terms with everything, so Zoro stands and carefully shuffles around his still laughing Captain to take a look at the supplies on the little boat. Better to know how many hours of food they have before Luffy shovels it all in.

~*~

Penguin’s wrapped in his arms and sleeping in lieu of talking out what’s going on in his oldest friend’s head when everything starts to fall apart. Again.

First, Law’s heart monitor drops from a steady, if slow, beat to nothing. Second, the screaming starts.

It’s one voice, soon joined by another and another as what seems like the whole crew starts shouting and yelling and falling apart like they’re dying. It’s a sound that’s been reverberating in his head for days as he’s tried to reconcile his present with the future he remembers.

With no one else in the room but Penguin, who bolts upright at the wail of the heart monitor, Shachi feels a moment of panic. Someone needs to help the Captain and they won’t be enough. And with the crew freaking out, they aren’t getting that help anytime soon. But still, he has to try.

Penguin is cursing, scattering supplies as he searches for the defibrillator. But they don’t have time.

Legs screaming and blood pounding in his ears, Shachi pushes up and stumbles through the mess to Law’s bed. He climbs up and fuck, but it hurts and he has to take a moment to suck in a steadying breath before he can straddle Law’s chest and check for breathing.

Nothing. Fuck.

He starts compressions immediately.

“Pen, grab a bag!”

Penguins’s still muttering, still looking through the supplies they hadn’t organized yet. Law doesn’t have _time_.

“Pen! Bag!”

His friend whirls, face curled in a snarl before he stops and pales. Penguin jumps over the debris, grabbing a bag and mask from a pile beside the bed and gets everything set up in moments. This close, Shachi can see the tears brimming in Penguin’s eyes. His vision blurs as his own tears spill down his face.

Outside the infirmary, the screaming continues.

“Shachi, _what’s going on_?” Penguin’s voice cracks as he steadily compresses and releases the bag. The heart monitor is still wailing.

Fire and blood and snow sit at the edges of his vision, but he can’t say anything, can’t destroy his friend with whatever his future was or will be or whatever the hell had happened. Something is so damn wrong and he just doesn’t know what to do. Hasn’t since he woke in the middle of the infirmary, Law clutched in his arms and everything falling apart around him and the shelving units sliding toward them.

How the hell did a bunch of idiot marines get the jump on them again?

“I don’t know,” He’s huffing and crying and just needs a fucking minute where the world makes sense, but that’s not gonna happen any time soon, is it?

The door crashes open and Ikkaku slams in, red in the face and terrified out of her mind, “What the fuck! _What the fuck!_ ”

“Not the time!” Penguin cries out, “Get the _fucking_ defibrillator!”

She pales and Shachi can’t focus on anything but compressions anymore. He’s just pushing and counting and—

Large, furred hands wrap around his waist and pull him away from his Captain.

Sound floods back in and _when had it gone_? Arms are wrapped around him and he’s being pulled back and away as more of the crew flood in and surround Law. The heart monitor stops whining and people are shouting and crying and hugging each other in relief and Shachi really doesn’t know what’s going on. The crew is in chaos, more than he’s ever seen them.

The hands, Bepo’s hands, are turning him round and—

“Shachi, are you back?”

There is something in Bepo’s eyes and Shachi knows he doesn’t mean back from the panic of the last few minutes. He doesn’t know how to answer so he stays silent.

Sorrow crosses Bepo’s face but before the mink can say anything else, Shachi’s legs start to give way. Bepo’s hands never left his waist and now that hold is the only thing keeping him from falling over. They shift, Bepo sliding a hand down to his knees and pulling up until Shachi is cradled in his arms.

He’s always known Bepo cares for him, but this closeness, the affection he can plainly see in the first mate’s gaze is a bit startling. He and Bepo had a rough start, even more so then the mink and Penguin.

Shachi will always regret how much of a little shit he was as a child and burgeoning teenager. His home life sucked and, in his anger at the hopelessness of his own situation, he started to take it out on everyone around him. Penguin, the first day they met, had met him punch for punch and held him after when he couldn’t hold back the tears afterwards.

Bepo, on the other hand, had been an easy target.

Shachi’d been the main aggressor for years, and even after Law came around and beat some sense into him, their relationship had been frosty. It wasn’t until the Vira and the crazy revolution they got sucked into that they really started to heal.

(It helped that Bepo had found him in an alley, bleeding out and burnt as he stumbled along, trying to protect a group of starving street kids from the gunfire and passing soldiers. The bear had always had a soft spot for kids.)

As the largest member of the current crew, Bepo has no problem pushing through the crowded infirmary to place Shachi back on a bed. He’s so incredibly gentle in a way Shachi knows doesn’t fit the time period, but with everything changed from how it used to be the first time, maybe this is different too?

(He can’t tell them about the maybe future, he can’t let them think he’s crazy. He _can’t lose them._ )

When he’s laying down, Bepo arranging his legs and propping him up on pillows, the mink asks him again, “Are you _back_?”

“I don’t know how to answer that, Beps,” He really, really doesn’t.

Across the room, Uni hisses, grabbing his arm as the skin grows red for a moment, a scar blooming across his forearm. It’s an old wound, to Shachi’s mind, from a fight back when they first entered the New World.

Hyokko stumbles, hand grabbing his side. Lifting his shirt, the massive scar from an encounter with a particularly stabby marine in Paradise is blooming down his side.

Then it’s Ikkaku. And Clione. And Gacho. Everyone around him is crying out or grunting in pain. Old injuries, things from the maybe-now-more-certain future are surfacing on the skin of his crew. And it’s _his crew_ isn’t it.

Suddenly, Bepo’s question makes sense.

“Actually,” he reaches out, dragging the first mate’s attention back to him with a tug on his boiler suit, “I think I am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In which I continue Oda’s tradition of increasingly dark and tragic backstories. Sorry Koby!
> 
> Shachi and Penguin are having a Time.
> 
> Also, Law's definitely been in a coma this entire time.... Ya'll get it yet?
> 
> Thanks for reading!


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another!!! We've got a happy chapter this time kiddos!
> 
> Let's ggooooooooo!

He may have gone overboard again…

The small bar is bursting with patrons and everyone is there to get a taste of Sanji’s cooking. He even sees a few badly disguised chefs who turned him down when he first started looking for a job on the little island.

Sweete is looking more harried by the day and, while he’s loving the money Sanji is raking in for him, he doesn’t like the constantly loud and lively air inside the small dockside bar. He can tell Sweete is praying for the day Sanji leaves with his crew.

Sanji had confessed, one night not too long into his employment as he and Sweete were wiping down tables and sweeping out the debirs of the earlier crowd, that he was waiting for his crew and wouldn’t be around forever. Sweete had given him a hard look before nodding his agreement.

(He can see the haggard look and old scars on the man and knows that the other isn’t just a barkeep. There is a world-weariness that only pirates who’d lived to retire had about them. And if Sanji overhears the man placing orders that are never delivered and sees the small packets of paper the man slides under the bar to a few of the regulars, well, Sanji can keep his mouth shut with the best of them.)

(They’re working towards the same goal, afterall.)

Today is just like any other and Sanji has been working overtime to fulfill all the orders flying through the door since they opened. He spins between tables, leaving platters and grabbing used plates in time for more people to take the emptying seats. It’s just as he turns to return to the kitchen when he sees them.

Her bright hair will always catch his eye, as fiery as her personality. The understated curls of her companion only confirms who he’s seeing and he has to swallow down the shout of joy he wants to let loose. Instead, he twirls back into the kitchen and starts throwing together his most extravagant dish. Only the best for his Nami!

(And Usopp of course, but he’ll never tell him that. Can’t have the men on his crew thinking he cares for them or anything.)

Sweete swings back in, ready to grab the finished dishes. He stops and seems to know that this will be Sanji’s last day on the island.

“You better finish out the night.”

Sanji gasps in mock outrage, “How dare you suggest I won’t finish feeding the crowd out there!”

Sweete just rolls his eyes and grabs the next platter. They both carefully ignore the fond smile on his lips.

~*~

He’s just adding the finishing touches to the meal he’s prepared for Nami and Usopp when Sweete returns. His crewmates are with him.

“These two say they’re here to apply for sous chef positions,” The disbelief is clear in the barkeeps voice.

“Sanji!” Nami crows and flings her arms around him.

His face is red and heated and he knows blood is starting to drip from his nose, but he holds it in. He can’t get blood in the food. He wraps his arms around her and, after a moment, reaches out and drags Usopp in as well.

They squeeze him tight and finally, _finally_ , he feels like the world won’t shake apart around him at any moment. His crew is back too, leaving the Baratie wasn’t a mistake and they can fix the horror that is the future.

And he can cook for his crew again!

After a few minutes, he pulls back and ushers them to the small table at the back of the kitchen and presents them with their meal.

The rest of the afternoon and evening is spent catching up as Sanji cooks. Usopp takes over prepping vegetables and Nami keeps an eye on the massive pot of stew as they tell him about their own adventures. He sees the still healing scars on Usopps side and the bittersweet resignation in Nami’s eyes and aches for not having been there when they needed him. But he’s here now and he will see them back to the rest of the crew.

Both have grown strong over the years and seeing that same strength in younger bodies just reminds him of how far they’ve come and how far they’ll grow. They’re not back to their old selves and they may never be, but they know what’s coming and this time they’ll unleash hell on those that wronged them.

The world better watch out because they aren’t holding back, not anymore.

~*~

They leave at dawn the next morning, the sea calm and the wind steady. Annis and Sweete are there to see them off, the former bawling his eyes out and the latter refusing to acknowledge the tears at the edges of his vision.

Sanji tells them they’re off for more adventures and Sweete knows he’ll be watching the papers for their exploits. Something about the way they hold themselves reminds him of his old crew and his current employers. There is an air of knowing about them, the knowledge of what the world truly holds and the atrocities hiding under the World Governments shiny veneer stitched into their gazes. It makes him ache to see people so young look so old.

This is what he’s fighting against and, as the small boat sails off holding what amounts to three children who’ve seen too much, he’s already composing his next report.

 _Watch for the Strawhats_ it says. _Keep an eye out, for they will change the world_ is what it means.

(Months later, on a sandy island across the world, this small piece of intel will finally be unearthed and a man sitting at his desk will laugh and laugh and _laugh._ )

~*~

Strawhat luck holds in even the weirdest of circumstances. It doesn’t matter if the entire world is against them, when the cards are down and life is trying to end them, something comes out of the blues and just, solves the problem for them.

Seriously, how the hell does this happen?

They’ve been sailing for less than a day when they suddenly hit the edge of the Florian triangle. All intention to reach the closest island and drop off the rest of the former slaves is forgotten in trying to navigate away from the foggy death trap.

But Robin wants to head straight into it.

Jean wants to shake the woman and remind her of just how few people make it through Paradise. Even with the advantage of Haki and knowledge of future events, none of them are navigators and the weather in this area is even more unpredictable than usual.

She’s just standing beside him at the helm, calmly stating why they should go straight into the wall of death before them to find one of the Strawhats, of all things, when a ghostly melody starts filling the sea around them.

(And okay, finding crew in weird places is par for the course for both their crews. Jean had been a slave in Mary Geoise and found his crew in the crazy shit that was the Sabaody Incident, but the Florian Triangle? Seriously? Even Yonko avoided the area.)

Instead of screaming or shaking with fear or the million other things a sane person would do when confronted with haunting music in a ghostly sea, Robin smiles and tells him to head toward the music. What makes it worse, is that she’s so earnest. She honestly believes that this is the right course, that even with the former slaves on the ship and the dangers of Paradise.

(There is something so _sexy_ about her confidence and Jean needs to get his head checked because what? When did insane become a trait he looked for in a partner?)

(He’s so fucked.)

She’s in it for the long haul and he knows he going to lose this argument. Might as well just do what she says.

He turns the wheel and they head into the fog.

~*~

Even before joining the Heart Pirates and making it to the New World, Jean had been on the seas long enough to know about Haki. He’d even met a few people before his untimely enslavement who used limited amounts of one type or another. Seeing the power behind Armament Haki, he focused his training on that, not believing that Observation Haki was worth taking time away from other skills when he was surrounded by a crew much better at it than himself.

Watching Robin’s head shift back and forth as she directs them towards an unseen source has him sorely regretting that choice now. It’s not like he doesn’t trust her, but only having one person, and not someone he’s sailed with for years, being the person directing him? Well, he’s nervous on a good day.

The music isn’t gone, but it’s not growing any louder, no matter how close Robin claims they’re getting. Something about the density of the fog and the acoustics of the massive, mysterious _figures_?

(He decides he doesn’t need to know.)

She directs them for what feels like hours. The fog never changes, not getting lighter, but not getting darker. Debris floats by, some of it looking so old it can’t have come from this decade. Shadows flit past the hull.

A massive lion’s head appears out of the mist accompanied by a very loud and drawn out, “ _Ssuuuupeer_!”

Jean can’t hold in his shaky snort of amusement as he turns the ship to come alongside the Thousand Sunny and begins the long trip back out of the Florian Triangle as the Strawhats shout back and forth in joy.

~*~

“Yohoho! I’m quite the popular figure these days!” Brook exclaims after Robin tells of her recent exploits. It’s odd, how long it’s been for Franky considering she’s been in the past for barely a week. He’s been back long enough to rebuild the Sunny _and_ give her plenty of upgrades. So, what does this mean for the rest of the crews?

He puts it out of his mind for now. There’s nothing that can be done until they’ve reunited with everyone. Until then…

“So, now we head to the nearest island?” The big guy from the Torao’s crew, Jean something, chimes in.

“We should drop off the others, shouldn’t we,” Robin says, gesturing to the still cowering passengers on the other ship. Did she just…?

“No, I did not just take over a ship, Franky,” Robin chuckles before gesturing to Jean, “I just found our friend here and decided to help him out of a difficult spot.”

Aah, slavers.

“That’s absolutely _suuuper,_ Robin!” He strikes a pose and shares a smirk with his crewmates when Jean rolls his eyes and sighs.

(He’s going to milk having a new audience for his antics for as long as possible. It’s too funny not to.)

(And if it helps him feel a bit more normal despite his wrong body, well, who has the right to judge?)

“And then to Drum Island, I presume?” Brook asks, “I’d love to see the home island of our lovely doctor.”

Lovely is not the description Franky would use, but Brook’s always been odd, “Aaahwo! So, we have a plan!”

“It seems so,” Robin confirms, “Jean, if you would?”

The man nods and gives Robin a fond smile before leaping back to the other ship and gathering the former slaves to explain the plan. Something is going on between these two.

(And the way Robin stares after the man, face beyond fond, just confirms it.)

“Yohoho, do I detect some love in the air?” Brook asks in the least subtle way ever and Franky remembers that he, the cyborg with the blue hair, is considered the discreet one.

Robin looks stunned for a moment, before blushing. Actually blushing!

“Point to Brook,” Franky half whispers, disbelief coloring his tone.

Robin doesn’t even offer an explanation, she just walks away, smile wide across her face. Franky’s heart warms and he shares a smile with Brook.

It’s about time Robin gets something nice in her life.

~*~

Wapol is still on the island. Chopper had forgotten how little time there was between Blackbeard running the man off the island and the Strawhats dealing with the man once and for all. He misses the old castle, with it’s winding halls and drafty rooms.

Instead, he’s staying in Docterine’s little house on the edge of the woods. She’s been nice to him, like he’s fragile or falling apart. Part of him wants to bask in the attention, let the woman who is more his mother than the cow that birthed him hold him as he cries for days at a time. The rest of him thinks of his crew, of the way they failed and the things he needs to change. He has to be ready this time.

So, after a day of laying in bed and feeling sorry for himself, Chopper forces himself past the pain and starts to train.

(He has to be better or they won’t want him, says the traitorous voice at the back of his mind. He squashes it down even as he pushes harder and harder.)

It begins with running to the nearby village and back. He switches forms constantly, keeping away from Monster point more out of habit than any real fear that he’ll lose control. And he keeps his head down, trying to get close without getting spotted. He needs to be faster, hide better and streak in between the bullets his enemies send his way. He’ll not be taken down so easily this time.

(And if he spends some of his training time stalking Wapol and doing his best to convince the man that the world is out to get him? He’ll take the muttering and paranoid twitching home with him to giggle over as he tries to sleep. Everyone needs hobbies, right?)

It’s weeks later, when he feels stronger than he ever was on Drum Island the first go around, that he sees a familiar shape on the horizon. He pauses, watching, considering.

And deciding not to give a damn. They came for a reason. Him!

His wait is over and, as the ship approaches the dock, Chopper runs to find Doctorine. His goodbye has to be quick, Wapol will be at the dock soon and they have to outrun him for now.

(Something is telling him that now is not the time to deal with the despot. That no matter how prepared he is or strong he and his crew are, some things must happen first before they take down the first monster in Choppers life.)

Kureha is sitting at her desk, a cup of steaming tea at her side as she parses her notes from the last month. It’s a habit Chopper picked up in his first month with her and something that has saved him countless hours of research in the future. He hates interrupting her when she’s working on something so important, but needs must. He will hate himself if he doesn’t properly say goodbye.

“Doctorine?” He says in a voice too small for the importance of what he has to say. It feels so wrong that this has to be rushed, especially when she deserves so much more.

She sets down her pen with a smile and turns to face him, “Yes Chopper?”

Its clear that she knows he has something important to say and oh, does he love her even more. She’s always known when he needs more attention or when he needs to hide behind a mask of non-attention. There are days when he’s pretty sure she knows him better than he does. His heart _aches_.

“I, um, I need to leave,” he’s rubbing his hooves together and looking away. He desperately wants to hide behind the doorframe instead of facing her full on.

From where he’s staring at the ground, he can see her feet shift as she stands and comes to kneel before him.

“Why?”

Its such a simple question with the most complicated answer of all. How does he explain all he’s been through? Even if he had all the time in the world instead of the steadily closing window slowly strangling him, he could never really tell her what is going through his head. He has the words, his vocabulary is second only to Robin when it comes to the crew, but he can’t parse this into something understandable.

He could say that he needs away from the village, that after Hiriluk’s death he can’t stay on the island any longer, but those would be lies and he doesn’t lie to the people important to him. So, instead he settles for the truest statement he’s uttered in a long time.

“I have people who need me and a world to change.”

Doctorine is quiet for a long moment and Chopper finally gets the courage to look up at her. When he does, he sees his mother smiling at him through a stream of tears and he immediately feels his own tears well up.

“Oh Chopper,” his mother says, voice thick with tears she’ll never acknowledge as she pulls him into a tight hug.

And they stay that way as minutes pass. Doctorine keeps her arms tight around him and Chopper shoves himself as close to her as possible. It’s so different from the last time, when they’d yelled and screamed and fought instead of just talking.

(Chopper’s sure it’s his outlook, his seemingly newfound maturity, that’s changed things. She won’t have to worry as much this time. Chopper is strong and his crew has his back. They will take the world _by storm_.)

When they finally part, Doctorine helps Chopper pack, gifting him a new set of journals and baby den-den mushi. Then, she walks with him to the port, wrapping him under her cloak whenever a villager gets too close.

They make it to the docks just as the Sunny pulls in and Chopper shifts to his human point long enough to give her another long hug. This time, he’s the one pulling her into his embrace and he feels hot tears soak into his fur for a moment before she lets go and he turns, shifting into walk point as he runs.

(He almost balks, the slightest falter in his pace as his insecurity hits him again. Is he good enough? Can he keep them alive?)

(On the deck, he sees a flash of bright blue hair, hears the strains of a violin, smells the warmth of a thousand hands, and pushes on.)

As he reaches the end of the dock, he leaps. Robin is there, arms across her chest as a series of hands reach out and grab him out of the air. And then he’s on the deck and they’re pulling away and he watches as a group of men coming running up the port, yelling and waving as they try to figure out what’s going on. Behind them, the uniforms of Wapol’s troops are converging.

He’s back in brain point when his hooves meet the deck and Robin kneels down to sweep him into another hug. And then he’s passed to Brook, then Franky. All of them are crying as a large, familiar looking man turns the ship back towards the horizon.

They all stand at the railing as Drum fades into the distance. Franky, Brook, and Robin hadn’t been there when he met the rest of the Strawhats and it feels odd to be sailing away without any of the rest of the crew there.

But now it feels like a promise. When he sails back here with the rest of his crew, they’ll be ready. Wapol better hold on to that paranoia because it may be the only thing that saves him in the end.

Chopper turns away just before the island fades into the distance and they turn towards the beginning of the Grandline. He’s ready to fight, and this time _nothing_ will stop him from saving those dear to him.

Chopper will destroy those that hurt _his crew._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've hit the fast track here ladies, gents, and those of more discerning genders and non-genders! 
> 
> I told you we'd get here some day, it just took a meandering journey through a massive pile of angst first!!
> 
> Hope you liked it!!!!


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's Go!

Everyone has settled into their new reality. Somehow, they have died and woken back up in the past. Somehow, they have the scars and some of the skills they developed in the future. Somehow, they have been given a chance to change their fates and take down the world government.

Bepo just hopes Law lives to see it.

With everything going on, Law’s condition has fallen into monotony. He hasn’t been forgotten and he can see the concern and worry in everyone’s faces every time the Captain is mentioned, but he feels like they’re in a holding pattern when it comes to his health.

The biggest problem is that they just don’t know what to do. There is a connection between his health and the crew waking up in the past, that’s clear, but is it over? As far as they know, everyone on the ship has come back, but what about the crew outside the Polar Tang? What about Yama or the twins or Jean Bart? What about the Strawhats? Is it only people close to Law by physical proximity? Is it just people he knows well? Or is it every person on the island?

Will they have to deal with thousands of Marines coming back as well? And if they do, is there even a chance Law will survive?

They have him on fluids and someone is always in the room with him. They can’t trust the monitoring equipment to notify them fast enough to keep him alive with how fragile he’s become.

And that’s where Bepo is. He’s given the helm to Penguin and Shachi, the two needing the time to talk and work out their own headspaces with the excuse of work to help distance themselves from their emotions. It’s a trick Shachi’s used on the rest of them and Bepo feels a little smug using it right back.

The rest of the crew is finishing repairs and securing the rest of the submarine. They’ll have to get back down to the Blues sometime and none of them want a repeat of the last trip.

Law’s heartbeat is a steady, comforting tone in the background as Bepo finishes reorganizing the infirmary. From there, he’s working through a few different plans for securing the cabinets. Clearly, the locks they’d had in place weren’t up to the stress of the sub being literally upended.

Penguin, guilt so palpable Bepo could practically taste it, had 18 different variations on locking mechanisms planned by the time Shachi forced him to rest. From there, they’d narrowed it down and Bepo was in charge of trying each of them.

He’s working through variation 5, a complicated system involving strapping and wood blocks that, frankly, seems very secure but takes too long to set up to be practical when the tempo changes.

Bepo drops everything and scrambles to his Captain’s side.

His heart rate is coming rising steadily, blood pressure and oxygen levels stable. And most importantly, his brain activity is spiking. As Bepo watches, Law’s hand twitches.

“Captain!” he says, voice low but excited.

There’s a quiet moan and Law’s eyes peek open for the first time in so damn long that Bepo is immediately crying.

“Caaaptaaain!” he cries again, louder this time. Then he’s carefully, _oh so carefully_ , wrapping an arm around his Captain.

“Be-po,” Law breathes out, voice scratchy with disuse. His hands clench at the sides of Bepo’s boiler suit, “Okay?”

Of course the bastard wants to know about his crew. The absolute _ass_.

Bepo reaches back for a glass of water as he answers, “Alive. A little banged up and shocked, but alive. Also, they’re back. All of them.”

Law’s brow furrows, eyes going distant for a moment before his gaze sharpens and shoots back to Bepo. He takes a sip from the offered glass before clearing his throat and asking, “Everyone?”

Bepo is grinning so wide his cheeks hurt, “Yeah, everyone.”

It’s so damn good to see Law smile. His Captain fully relaxes back into the bed, hand slowly coming up to cover his eyes as tears well up and spill over.

The two of them sit back and laugh and laugh and _laugh_.

There is so much to do, but right now? Well, right now they can bask in the fact that the world tried to end them and the world _failed_.

And now they’re back to take it by storm.

~*~

Truthfully, everything has been so weird lately that when Shachi off-handly mentions the trip inside the Sea King’s mouth, they’re all surprised that _Law_ is surprised. It’s only then that they realize just how long their Captain’s been unconscious. It also spawns an extended discussion of what’s happened, what everyone experienced when they came back, and the potential future problems the Sea King and the cloud sea they currently find themselves sailing present.

Law’s face grows more and more incredulous with every word. He turns to Bepo, because the mink is the only person on the crew he trusts more than himself.

“Seriously?”

His first mate is looking both supremely smug and a little incredulous himself, “Yes, Captain.”

He rubs a hand across his eyes and sighs heavily, “Dammnit, Mugiwara-ya.”

It’s always Luffy’s fault, in the end. There is no way this isn’t the idiot’s fault. Only his weird luck would put them in this position.

“Is it just us? Or did the Strawhats come back as well?”

He’s answered by a series of shrugs. Yeah, that tracks.

“We’ll have to see when we get back to the Blues,” Penguin says, “That is, if that ever happens.”

Shachi slings an arm around Penguin from where he’s seated in a wheelchair beside the bed. He knocks Penguin’s hat from his head as he ruffles the others hair and says, voice angrily fond, “Happy thoughts, Pen. We’ll be okay. We always are.”

Behind them, Law can see Uni and Hyokko exchange worried looks. Yeah, he gets it.

Instead of commenting, he turns to Bepo and lifts an arm, “Take me outside.”

The room erupts into protests that he silences with a glare. Bepo just glares straight back.

_You know I’ll get myself out of this bed_ he thinks in Bepo’s direction.

_I know and I hate it_ Bepo obviously thinks back since he sighs and scoops him up. Ikkaku is quick to grab the IV bag and follow along.

Outside, the sun is bright and it takes a moment for his eyes to adjust. The air is brisk and Law feels a shiver run through him before Bepo tucks him closer.

The first thing he notices is the mass of fluffy white clouds. Next thing he sees is the massive, bright yellow nose of the Sea King. The massive nose that turns into a massive head which comes up right above them and blocks the sun with its massive shadow.

Law shivers again.

The Sea King’s head tilts and its eyes focus, pupils narrowing to slits before blowing wide. Then, the huge, spine covered Sea King _capable of swallowing the sub whole_ plops its head down in the clouds and rolls over like a dog looking for a belly rub. When they don’t move, it wiggles a little, turning its head to look at them with what could liberally be called a puppy-dog expression.

Law regrets being born.

Once again, he just stares at Bepo and thinks hard instead of saying anything. Bepo sighs like he’s dying and asks Ikkaku to unhook Law’s IV. She does so with a series of huffs in her own form of quiet protest. Then, they’re flying through the air to land on the scaled belly of the Sea King.

The Sea King stills and carefully bends its head up to look at them. It opens its mouth and a low tone emanates outward. Bepo tenses, ears folding down as sound reverberates through his head. He pulls Law closer as he falls to his knees, then curls forward as the sound increases.

In his arms, Law hears music. It’s faint, like a radio playing in another room. The melody is there but the words are muffled, unintelligible. It grows, filling his chest and head. He can’t hear the words, they mean nothing to him in this moment. Instead there is a sense of knowing, like he could talk to this being, ancient and untold and _waiting,_ without saying anything at all.

The sound dies down and Bepo uncurls, panting and wincing as he moves back to sit, Law still in his arms.

“She’ll take us back down tomorrow. It’ll be a much shorter trip this time,” Law says. Knows.

Bepo stares at him with wide eyes, concern furrowing his brow, “Captain?”

“We’ll need everything secured. No need to repeat the trip up here.”

His first mate just whines, voice pitching higher than usual in his exasperation, “Captaaain!”

~*~

Koby sure knows his stuff, if the approaching sight of Loguetown has anything to say about it.

They’d made a few stops, Zoro managing to keep Luffy out of trouble and Koby dragging the both of them back to the boat before they can start making names for themselves. Zoro is already known for his exploits as a bounty hunter and he can’t exactly hide that, but he doesn’t have a bounty yet.

For all that bounties are a source of pride in their profession, both of them feel like they don’t deserve one just yet. They need to be with their crew first.

Luffy lets out a whoop and Koby wipes his brow with a wide grin when they notice the approaching land. There’s a fiery spark at the edge of his senses and he smiles.

“Looks like Shitty Cook already beat us here.”

“Well he’s got Nami,” Luffy says, swinging an arm around Zoro and using him as a climbing post, “And Usopp!”

He focuses harder and, yeah, he can feel the subtle brightness of Usopp and taste the lightning of Nami.

Koby is rolling his eyes so hard at them that Zoro is almost worried that he’ll give himself a headache. He’s damn glad the kid is growing a backbone.

Exposure to Luffy does that.

It takes a few hours to reach the island and dock. The lack of bounties does make it easier and they’re able to secure a spot at the official entrance to the island.

Luffy takes off the moment they finish tying the boat off. He dodges through the crowd so fast that it’s only Zoro’s Haki that lets him keep track of his Captain. Instead of following, he turns to Koby.

“Let’s find you those Marines.”

Koby gives him an exasperated glare and grabs the side of his haramaki before he can step off the boat.

“The walkway is on the other side, Zoro.”

The damn dock moved again. Well, whatever. He deals with moving streets all the time. Can’t be too hard to find the base in as small a town as this.

They disembark and Koby keeps a hold on him as they look for the Marine base. The kid must still be nervous. He’ll get over it in time, Zoro knows, but who is he to take away comfort from a friend?

He follows along as Koby pulls him through winding streets. With Koby navigating, he has time to focus on his crew. Sanji’s warm fire encompasses Nami and Usopp, his protective nature all but smothering their signatures. Good, the less people notice the physically weaker members of the crew, the better. And Luffy’s buzzing excitement spreads and contracts as he gets closer to the rest of their family.

He laughs hard at the thought of Sanji’s face when Luffy inevitably glomps the bastard. Koby just shakes his head and pulls him down another street.

He’ll see the crew soon enough.

~*~

Nami is the first to spot Luffy and she points him out to Usopp. Both stand back and watch as their Captain, limbs flying and grin wide, slams into Sanji mid-flirt with the pretty girl at a fruit stand.

They both lean into each other as they laugh, barely able to stand.

Sanji’s face is bright red in embarrassment and anger before he realizes that it’s Luffy wrapped around him like a rubber blanket. Then, he shoots an apologetic smile at the girl, who’s laughing just as hard as Nami and Usopp, and sits up. Luffy does not loosen his hold.

That’s when they realize he’s crying.

Usopp sobers first and pulls Nami to the side, making way for Sanji as he stands and adjusts his arms to hold Luffy as they walk out of the market. They duck into the first empty alley and Nami and Usopp join the hug.

Usopp is the first to talk, tears clogging his voice, “Zoro get lost?”

Luffy gives a watery laugh, resigned anger radiating off him as he swings an arm out to clutch at Nami and Usopp, “Shishishi, no, he’s got Koby with him. They’re finding the Marine base.”

Sanji pulls his head back against the wall, giving Luffy a concerned look, “The Marines?”

“Mmhm, it’s his dream. And he’s one of the good ones.”

All of them can see the pain in the statement as it tightens Luffy’s shoulders.

“Well,” Usopp starts, “We’ll fix everything this time. Then Koby can be the Fleet Admiral and make sure the Marines are better.”

“Yeah,” Nami chimes in, “He’s strong and you need a good rival, right Luffy?”

That has their Captain perking up, “We never got to fight in the New World! Now we can!”

And, just like that, they’re laughing again, this time in pure joy. They let it settle into their bones and bask in the warmth of being together again. The hole where the other crew members sit is still wide and gaping, but it doesn’t hurt as much with part of their family back together.

“So, who wants to find moss-head?” Sanji asks, trying to keep the fondness out of his voice as though he won’t be the first to volunteer.

“We stay together,” Nami says before the others can pipe up. From the looks on their faces, they absolutely agree.

Sanji heaves a large sigh in mock resignation, “Guess we better finish the shopping first. The Blues know how long it’ll take to find him and get him back to the boat.”

Thus, they go back to the market, Nami and Usopp wrangling Luffy as Sanji purchases the last of their food supplies. Then, they head toward the pool of confused calm tinged with a hint of bloodlust that flows around their swordsman. Again, they meet in a massive hug and stream of tears when they are reunited.

(Zoro and Sanji even tolerate each other for a long minute, holding each other close at the center of their crewmates. Neither will admit how much they missed the other.)

It takes another hour of careful watch and happy adventures to get them all back to the dock and the fishing boat Usopp has brought from Syrup Island.

“No Merry?” Luffy asks, voice quiet.

Usopp shakes his head, “No, it…didn’t feel right, taking her. I left in a hurry and Merry didn’t offer her and I just…” He trails off.

“She didn’t feel like Merry, did she?”

“No,” Usopp tears up as he shakes his head again, “She didn’t. I don’t think we’ll meet her again.”

And oh, it hurts because Merry Go had been an original member of the crew, there since almost the beginning. It felt like losing her all over again.

“We already said goodbye to her,” Zoro says, sling an arm around Usopp and pulling him into a side-hug, “She deserves a nice retirement.”

They pile into the little boat and set off towards Reverse Mountain. It’s unlikely the ship will survive the jump, but they are the Strawhats. They’ll find a way.

The rest of their crew is waiting for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Who's even more confused now! XD
> 
> At least Law's awake! I didn’t realize until I was writing the end that Law never knew they were inside a Sea King. Like at all. Also, the first time Law actually refers to Luffy out loud and boy, oh boy did I have to look to make sure I was consistent with Japanese vs. English naming styles. 
> 
> And the East Blue Strawhats are together again! I may have cried a little bit while writing that section but oh well.
> 
> Thanks for reading! I hope you all liked it!


	16. Chapter 16

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, long author's note, short chapter.
> 
> Thank you so so so much to everyone who's followed me on this journey. From everyone leaving long rambling comments to people leaving Kudos, seriously thank you. You've made it easier to keep going with this AU and have spawned ideas from asides and spinoffs of the main story. 
> 
> Now before getting into the final chapter, I do want to let you know that life is getting busier and, though I have the entire story plotted and will get it done, it's gonna take a bit. I'm a bit of a perfectionist, so I like to have everything written and in the final stages of editing before I post.
> 
> Anyways, have fun! This is only the beginning!!

Crocus has seen so much weird shit in his long life that, in all honesty, he thought he’d seen it all. The beginning of the Grandline is _tame_ compared to most of Paradise, let alone the New World. And yet, as he watches a tiny fishing boat fly down the mountain and slam into the side of Laboon, he begins to wonder if this is an omen.

There’s screaming and shouting and a boy that’s clearly a devil fruit user starts yelling at Laboon and wraps his suddenly very long arms around the nose of the whale. More yelling, a couple screeches, a blast of lightning from a woman with a staff that creates clouds and a few explosions from a kid with a slingshot, and suddenly Laboon is more responsive than he’s been in decades. It almost makes him get up from his chair.

They dock and the group settles down, the man with green hair immediately lying down for a nap and the devil fruit user quickly joining him. Then the other three flop down beside them and start talking. None of them have seen him yet and he’s already relishing the shock they’ll experience when the devil fruit user and the man in the black suit both shoot to their feet and run toward the edge of the cliff.

A ship is sailing _toward_ them?

He’s seen it before, though usually with ships that have recently come through. And Crocus can honestly say he’s never seen this ship before. It has a lion figurehead and the sails bear an unfamiliar Jolly Roger. It’s the typical skull and crossbones, but the skull is wearing an oddly familiar Strawhat.

One that looks suspiciously like the hat on the devil fruit users head. And is that…?

The ship moves unnaturally fast and he finally sees that the ship isn’t sailing on the water, it’s flying through the air! He’s up and on his feet, ready to yell at the people at the cliff’s edge, when the ship dips down and crashes into the water with a massive splash. Yelling and cheering comes from both the cliff and the ship. The devil fruit user wraps his arms around the others on shore and sends the whole group flying onto the deck.

And then, if things couldn’t get any weirder, a massive, yellow Sea King falls from the White Sea to the other side of Laboon, the whale acting as a barrier between the ship and the waves created by the splash.

The Sea King reemerges and opens its mouth and a yellow submarine with another unfamiliar Jolly Roger sails out as though this is the most normal thing in the world. The people on the ship with the lion figurehead cheer. A door on the sub opens and a mink in a bright orange jumpsuit walks out and starts waving back.

This is where Crocus just gives up. He doesn’t care anymore. He _can’t_ care if he wants to manage a minute of sanity before he dies. He sits back down, grabs his book, and goes back to his dissertation on terminal diseases.

He’s too old for this shit.

~*~

Luffy is back on the Sunny and his crew is here and Torao and his crew came back too!

Everyone is cheering and crying and hugging. Brook is shouting at Laboon and the whale is singing in excitement. There’s music and food and drinks as everyone gathers on deck. Even the Heart Pirates are there, the bear carrying an exhausted Torao.

His more-than-a-friend looks pale and the bags under his eyes are as deep as ever, but he’s smiling. Luffy launches himself forward, landing just in front of the two and calmly outstretching his arms. Torao’s first mate eyes him doubtfully. Torao rolls his eyes and gives the bear a look. The bear sighs and shakes his head fondly before gently depositing his Captain into Luffy’s arms.

“Hi Torao!” He exclaims, whirling around and walking to Sunny’s figurehead.

“Mugiwara-ya,”he responds, eyes soft and fond. Joy is radiating from him and Luffy has never seen anything more worth watching.

He settles them behind the figurehead, turned to lean back against Sunny’s mane. Law slumps against his shoulder, too tired to even hold himself up but he keeps his eyes open. The afternoon sun is warm as everyone finds drink and food. Zoro swings by with mugs of juice and a plate of riceballs, but the crews leave them mostly to themselves.

There are people missing from Law’s crew, people presumably found on the Grandline instead of the North Blue, and Luffy feels sorrow for their absence and the missing piece of his own crew. Law clearly feels the same if his occasional bittersweet sigh is anything to go by, but they both hold their tongues. They need this, a celebration of survival and the beginnings of change.

As the sun begins to dip towards the horizon, a hush falls over the crews. Brook pulls out his violin and the tone dial he’s been carrying from the beginning. It’s old and well-worn, the years taking their toll on the small shell.

Brook lifts his violin to his shoulder and poises his bow to begin. Usopp holds the tone dial, ready to start the recording at Brooks signal. The skeleton shifts, taking a deep breath out of habit more than need and—

“Wait!”

Luffy is standing, arms outstretched. Before anyone can speak, he continues, “Someone’s missing!”

The rest of the crews exchange confused looks. Some of the Heart Pirates aren’t here, but, to be frank, this was for the Strawhats not the Heart Pirates. Sanji, ever the romantic, stands and goes to ask just what Luffy’s doing stopping such an important moment when a splash sounds from the port side, opposite of Laboon.

Before anyone can react, a blue, webbed hand reaches over the rail, followed by a top knot and white streaked hair. And then, the face of the last Strawhat peeks over with a wide, victorious smile.

“Sorry I’m late, Captain.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jinbe!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> And you thought I wasn't including him... tsk tsk XD
> 
> In all honesty, I started writing the story when I was reading the beginning of the Whole Cake Island Arc and wasn't sure when he was going to show up. And then he did and every attempt at writing him in felt awkward and shoehorned and I didn't want to do that to him. 
> 
> So! I have an Aside I'll be posting soon that shows his side of the story. And don't worry, if you don't want to read it I'm adding in all of the relevant stuff in the main stories in a, hopefully, natural way.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading and commenting and leaving kudos. You're all literally the coolest!


End file.
